


Connaître

by KrisseyCrystal (AisukuriMuStudio)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, F/F, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pacific Rim AU, Romance, Slow Burn, it gay, kinda??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AisukuriMuStudio/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: In their little town of Elysia, far away from any coastline and high above the lower cities and surrounding countries of Hyland and Rolance, the word “kaiju” or “dragon” had rarely been heard. Until people from the governments below came up to see their little village of peace, Sorey Shepherd and Mikleo Rulay had known a golden childhood.It had been good. It had been fun. It lasted as long as it could.[The obligatory Pacific Rim AU.]





	1. Je

In their little town of Elysia, far away from any coastline and high above the lower cities and surrounding countries of Hyland and Rolance, the word “kaiju” or “dragon” had rarely been heard. Until people from the governments below came up to see their little village of peace, Sorey Shepherd and Mikleo Rulay had known a golden childhood.

It had been good. It had been fun.

It lasted as long as it could.

Then, when the reality below could no longer be ignored—when it entered upon their front doorstep without having even _knocked—_ everything changed.

The people from below who wore black, crisp outfits with clean lines and folds, began talking about “training” and “grooming” for some sort of new “program.” Gramps spat that word out like it was poison whenever he spoke of it to Mikleo and Sorey. He carried around with him an awful look to his face.

They tried to ask him what was going on. “Why are these people here?” “Who are they?” “When are they going to leave?”

Zenrus didn’t know how to tell them that perhaps they never truly would. Not after they found what they wanted, because they did.

Mikleo remembers the abundance of “tests” all of the children in Elysia were put through. It wasn’t all bad, the tests. Some of them were fun. He got to play with sticks, and play-fight some of his friends. He wasn’t always very strong, but he did his best. Sometimes he won.

Sorey, though.

Sorey was _different_.

And all of the people from below knew it, too. They could see it.

It scared Mikleo, the way they watched him. The way they _reacted_ to him.

There was something in the way Sorey fought with the others that, for whatever reason, caught their eye. Something fluid about him. Easy. Like everyone he had to play-fight with that wooden rod they gave him was speaking in a different language and each time Sorey faced them, he adapted. He learned how to speak their tongue right on the spot, and then, with surprising fluency, he communicated with them in a way they would understand. He translated; he danced.

It would have been mesmerizing if the way it made his best friend stand out wasn’t so frightening.

“Drift Compatible,” the officers from below murmured with excited breath, hiding their faces away with their clipboards and notes that they had been taking on all of the children. Mikleo still caught every word, nervous. Hovering. Unhappy. “He is drift compatible with nearly _everyone._ How can this be?”

Mikleo didn’t know what that meant. He was afraid to know.

All he knew was that Sorey was special. Special in a way that the men and women in their suits and shiny badges wanted.

It was very much a way _he_ didn’t want.  
  


* * *

 

“They won’t take him away, Mikleo.”

The young boy tightened his hold on the edges of his shirt, twisting the fabric until his fingers burned a brighter white. “But they won’t leave him _alone_ ,” he pointed out. His brows furrowed together, so many lines pressed into so young a face that shouldn’t have any. He bowed his head. “We hardly get to play anymore with him.”

Gramps sighed, the mask he so carefully kept in place in front of his children suddenly dissolving. “I know.”

Mikleo kept waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t. The village elder just brought a hand to his pipe and exhaled long and slow without it.

The light-haired youth frowned. He took a step forward. “Gramps…”

“There’s nothing we can do, Mikleo,” Gramps finally murmured. This time, his voice had a different edge to it. Something almost hard, if it didn’t sound so defeated. He lifted his pipe from his mouth fully and turned it upside down towards the fire that burned beside him in the center of his floor. He tapped the ash into the flames with a careful finger. “The heart of the matter is this: there are things going on in the outside world that we, in our peaceful little village, can’t even comprehend. If we do not do our part to help protect it, then I’m afraid we are going to suffer the consequences, as well.”

Mikleo’s frown deepened. His fingers released the edges of his shirt. They fisted at his sides instead. “So…’doing our part’ means just letting them do whatever they want with Sorey.”

There was an icy pause.

Then finally, Gramps sighed again. He put the end of his pipe back in his mouth—more teeth than lip this time. “Whatever they _need_ to do,” he admitted.

Mikleo didn’t have the heart to say that he doubted the officers cared about the difference between the two.  
  


* * *

 

Eventually, to all of Elysia’s relief, the men and women with the straight backs and the lined uniforms finally left.

Their plans for Sorey, however, did not.

“Jaeger pilot training,” it was said to be. Mikleo had no idea what that meant, in its entirety. All he knew was that after their hours spent tutoring and schooling with Gramps and the others, Sorey had to go through a different set of lessons.

Sometimes, they could be done at home. Perhaps even in their own house, on their bed, with their feet stuck up in the air and books unfolded before them as Sorey read up on weapons and kaiju and neural handshakes and resonance—that which allowed people to drift with each other. He learned all about new breakthrough warfare technology that their little town of Elysia couldn’t even _imagine._

Other times, Sorey had to be driven down all the way to Ladylake to receive face-to-face instruction. It was those days that he usually hopped out of the car with his t-shirt plastered to his torso with sweat.

But he’d be grinning.

That was, to Mikleo, the only thing that made the entire business okay.

Then, of course, Sorey would grab Mikleo’s hand. His smile would widen; he’d pull him away from their friends and to the edge of the village, where their play area lay among the scattered stone feet of the nearby ruins. “C’mon, Mikleo!” he would cry. “I’ve got to show you what they taught me!”

And then, even though Sorey had just spent hours prior doing the same strenuous workouts, he’d invite Mikleo to spar. They’d grab their fighting staffs and go at it; swinging and laughing and occasionally, Sorey would suddenly stop their antics. He’d hold up a hand. He’d dart forward to show Mikleo where his feet ought to be, and how he ought to hold the wooden toy weapon in his hands. He would instruct him where his weight should be, and when he should choose to defend versus when it was best to attack.

Mikleo found that though sometimes it was annoying, other times, the feel of Sorey’s hands on his arms or his wrists made it…bearable.

Then, when they were finished, they’d sit at the cliff’s edge of the village, panting and sore. They’d look out to the world below to see the clouds. Sorey would swing his feet, shoed ankles tapping against the stone underneath them. He would press his hands to the earth, and Mikleo beside him would keep his hands folded in his lap, eyes fixed on some random point in the distance.

Usually, it was quiet. They would just enjoy each other’s company.

Other days, though, the words would just spill from their lips.  
  


* * *

 

“…Mikleo?”

The young man raised his eyes from the horizon where cloud met sky, painted over with the yellows and reds of the setting sun. He met the green hues of his friend. “Yeah, Sorey?”

“They, uh…” Sorey seemed to fumble for a moment with the words. His eyes darted away and back again; his shoulders curled in on themselves, a certain, nervous tightness entering his young, bony— _handsome,_ though Mikleo would never ever dare say it—teenage form. “…well, I learned more about drifting today.”

“The neural handshake?”

“Yeah.”

Mikleo watched as Sorey bowed his head; wild and sweat-matted brown trusses tickling the line of his jaw. His cheeks were dusted with red.

But when Sorey didn’t elaborate, Mikleo prompted, “So, what about it? What did you learn?”

Sorey only shrugged. “I, well, y’know.” No, Mikleo didn’t know, but Sorey continued anyway. “I guess it’s not really something that I _learned_ about it so much as something that I, uh…well…”

And there they were. Back to the awkward waiting again.

Mikleo frowned, a little concerned about what it was he didn’t even know was baffling his friend. It wasn’t like Sorey to be this embarrassed about something. Usually, Sorey was honest. He was forthright and quickly frankly, frank. He owned up to mistakes; occasionally he could be teased into being flustered, but the stammers and the shyness present in him now were ultimately strange and ill-fitting on his friend.

So when Sorey didn’t elaborate yet again, Mikleo’s frown deepened. “Sore—“

“— _IguessIjustwantedtosaythatwhenIdriftIwantittobewithyou._ ”

Shocked silence.

And then, after a moment, Mikleo found something bubbling up in him. He started to laugh. “Wait, _what_?” he asked around his amusement. His grin was wide.

Sorey was tomato red. “Y-you heard me!” he sputtered, both miffed and embarrassed at the same time. He stuck his hands in his lap, fingers bunching into his pants as Mikleo laughed again. “Don’t make me say it again!”

“Nuh-uh!” Mikleo responded, cheeky. His grin was too wide, lavender eyes sparkling with mirth. A rare expression he never let on his face; only for Sorey. “I really didn’t! C’mon, Sorey!”

“N-no, I—!” Sorey grasped for words, but they evaded him. He huffed, and turned to stand. “Whatever. Forget it.”

“Sorey—“

Mikleo grasped his friend’s arm before he could turn too much away. His smile lessened, his form gentling into something more welcoming than before. “Sorry. For the record, I _really_ didn’t hear what it was you said.”

Sorey’s face didn’t lose any of its redness, but he did relent. He let Mikleo pull him back to sit beside him again. He kept his head bowed; his shoulders remained tense. He struggled for a moment more with what to say, until finally, he resorted to muttering what he had before, just more softly. More vulnerably.

“I guess I just wanted to say that when I…drift, I want it to be with you. Y’know? That’s all.”

…oh.

Mikleo…didn’t know what to say. Drifting—he knew what that was. He had read the same books Sorey was required to, sometimes over his shoulder when they had a lazy day in. But he supposed he hadn’t thought of drifting in that context; the context of them.

“You mean…sharing minds, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

A soft wind blew by. It was fresh, and brought with it the smell of clouds and grass. It ruffled Mikleo’s hair, swaying his bangs against his forehead, yet his eyes never once left his friend’s face.

After a moment of pause, Mikleo murmured, “Sorey, I’m not _in_ the Jaeger pilot program.”

Sorey looked down towards the white below. A strange motion, when Mikleo realized he hadn’t noticed that his friend had turned his gaze skyward. “I know,” Sorey said softly, like a sigh.

But then Sorey looked at him—a look that Mikleo had known since he was born. A look that hoped; a look that could believe in anything—that _did_ believe in everything—and dared the world to try and stop him now. “But you _could_ be. Just because I’m in it right now and you’re not doesn’t mean that you can’t _ever_ be in the program! Maybe one day you could!”

Mikleo felt something both hot and cold curl in his chest; something like hope mixed with fear. “You think?” he asked first, searching his friend’s excited gaze, before his own eyes turned away. Hope turned into something more guarded. “Maybe,” he finally murmured.

“Yeah!” But Mikleo’s hesitance seemed to sweep right over Sorey’s head. He continued, exuberant, “I mean, they don’t _just_ recruit people, you know. You _can_ volunteer, when you’re old enough! They train people when they become adults, too! There was this one guy—“

“—I know,” Mikleo said.

Sorey didn’t seem phased. He just brightened. “Yeah! Him!” He laughed. “And you could, like—with me— _we_ could fight kaiju! Together! And the entire time, it’d be like we were _one person,_ with nothing in between us.” Sorey was breathless with wonder as he said those words, watching his friend with green eyes that were maybe too much. “Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

It sounded terrifying.

It was, perhaps, the first time Mikleo had truly thought about the reality of drifting. Of sharing resonance with someone; of actually letting someone else _in_ to the private sanctuary of his inner being, his innermost thoughts. The first time it finally clicked that in the drift, nothing would be secret; he would have to lay everything out until he was bare; put everything he was out for display for a whole other person to purview as if he was a buffet. He would strip himself bare. No trimmings, no body, no nothing; he would just be seen for who he really was, as he was.

There was no buffer in the drift, after all; no film, no lens, no filter.

Just sheer vulnerability; openness.

It was also, perhaps, the first time that Mikleo truly considered the fact that whether Sorey wanted to or not, one day he would be forced to do just that—lay his own self bare. And if not with him, then with someone else. Maybe a complete stranger.

And most likely, the entire reason they were having this conversation was because Sorey had already figured that out.

Mikleo looked to Sorey. Sorey gazed back, for all the world looking like he was patiently waiting for Mikleo’s response; the only tell he had that gave away his nerves was the way his fingers still clenched so tightly into his pant legs.

Mikleo softened. “Yeah,” he said back, even though it was a small lie. The sun warmed their faces as it continued its descent, leaving lingering touches of goodnight and farewell. “It does sound like it would be amazing.”

Relief was the first thing he saw on Sorey’s face; it gave him courage.  
  


* * *

 

Really, in a sense, Mikleo knew he should consider himself honored. Out of all of the people in Elysia—out of anyone else he knew that he would want to be more familiar with—Sorey would rather drift with _him_. He would rather share everything he was, everything he kept hidden away and dear to himself, with _Mikleo_ than anyone else.

But that also meant, because drifting was not a one-way street, that at least _some_ part of Sorey—even if he didn’t actively _want_ to— _some_ part of Sorey was _willing_ to know Mikleo, as well.

And Mikleo didn’t know how to feel about that. That Sorey would like to see Mikleo, and all that he was; all that his friend kept hidden and away to himself. Or, he would be willing to. He would be willing to get to know him far more deeply than he had ever known him before. At the age of fifteen, Mikleo didn’t know if he was ready for that.

At least they had three years until Sorey was required to leave, he couldn’t help but think. At least, even though it was the deadline no one was ready for:  when Sorey would be transported to a Jaeger base to finally begin his real career as a pilot, they had time. At least it would be a few years before it would, quite literally, be Sorey’s job to save the world.

Or at least, that was what he kept telling himself.

In the end, they came for Sorey a year too early.  
  


* * *

 

They had said that Sorey wouldn’t even get in a Jaeger until he was twenty-one.

They had said that at eighteen, even though Sorey would be ready for real-time simulation training, his brain was far too young to take on his half of the neural load of a Jaeger just yet.

They had said they had more time. All the time in the world.

But they were wrong.

They were all wrong.  
  


* * *

 

No one in Elysia knew how bad it had gotten in the world below until the military men in the crisp, black suits came back. Mikleo didn’t complain about their presence this time; no one did. Each of them had too pinched of looks to their faces, too deep of frowns. Tighter jaws.

“They’re going to be coming every six months, now,” a dark-skinned general murmured to Gramps in the company of a few of his people and Sorey and Mikleo. “When the first one appeared sixteen years ago, the next one wasn’t seen until two years afterwards. Since then, they’ve started appearing about once a year. But there are predictions the attacks are now exponentially increasing. There was ten months between the last attack and the one before it. This one just had eight.”

A pin could have dropped in the room of that hut, and everyone would have heard it. Even over the quite flickering of the fire in the center of Gramps’ floor.

The man took a breath before continuing, “The governments of Hyland and Rolance are sending us more funding, because the people are getting more scared. We _have_ to get this program off of the ground, Zenrus.”

“Then do so,” came the quiet, careful response. Grams puffed smoke out of his pipe; his form remained still, unmoved. Mikleo suddenly felt a wave of affection and warmth for the steadfastness of their elder. “The Jaeger program is already active, is it not? You already have pilots. So use what is before you.”

“We _are_ ,” said the man, and there was a touch of pressure in his voice. A touch of fear.

It occurred to Mikleo, at the sound of it, that if _this_ man was afraid, then the horrors of the world below were very real. Very present. And yet here they had been, their entire lives, living in an isolated and sunny luxury, having never known anything to fear.

“We must seem so spoiled,” Sorey whispered to him in the shadow behind Gramps.

Mikleo couldn’t help but agree. They had been thinking the same thing.

The general took another breath. “There are predictions that the attacks will increase in frequency, and decrease in intervals, and we can’t pinpoint where they will occur. We aren’t ready for another attack after this last one; we’re spread out around the coast of the continent as it is, and only have a few Jaegers even on active duty right now. They can’t handle the entire coastline of Glenwood on their own. If we are to be expecting more kaiju, then we need more pilots.”

Then he said the words that Mikleo had always dreaded of hearing.

“We need the boy, sir. Now.”

Sorey stiffened beside him. Mikleo didn’t know what to think, do, say—

—but Gramps did.

Gramps always did.

He turned behind him to look at Sorey, and Sorey looked back. There was something about the way Gramps held himself that was sad; patient, but sad. Perhaps he was already mourning. “Well, Sorey? What do you think?”

Even as he asked those words, it was clear:  both Gramps and Mikleo knew what their Sorey would say.

Sorey’s fingers pressed into his pant legs again. “I want to help,” he said quietly. Earnestly.

And that was that.

Mikleo’s heart fell through the floorboards beneath his knees.  
  


* * *

 

Everything passed by in a blur afterwards. Sorey packing. The officers moving around the village with a purposeful delicacy. At least they were mindful that they were taking away a beloved of the community, even if it _was_ for the good of the world. Mikleo tried not to be too bitter, but he felt it gnaw at him anyway.

He could hardly remember everything that transpired before the final moment that he and Gramps stood before Sorey, the last in the gathered village of Elysia to give the seventeen-year-old their hugs and farewells. All of Sorey’s bags had been packed and loaded into the truck that would take him to Ladylake. From there, he would take a flight to perhaps the Lakehaven Heights Jaeger base, or Lastonbell, or Marlind, or Aifread’s Hunting Ground, or Zaphgott Moor, or…

…well, who knew where he would be stationed, really.

Mikleo watched Sorey carefully as Gramps stepped forward to give him his best wishes.

“You be careful, now,” the elder muttered. He kept a weathered hand on his pipe at all times as he spoke, even if it still hung from his mouth with perfect balance. Perhaps it helped ground him. “Be sure to write. We may be old-fashioned up here in Elysia, but we still get mail. So don’t forget about us in all of the hubbub of the world below. Understand?”

There was a shine to Sorey’s green eyes, and for once, Mikleo couldn’t tell if it was because of excitement or something sentimental. The young man nodded. His elysalark earrings jingled. “I won’t, Gramps,” he said, and he bent to wrap his arms around the man who had always been a father to both him and Mikleo.

Mikleo ached inside. Particularly when Sorey straightened and those emeralds turned to him. He swallowed and stepped forward.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then Sorey opened his mouth.

“Mikle—“

Mikleo bumped his first against Sorey’s arm. His amaranthine eyes were off to the side, unable to look at his best friend since birth. He crossed his arms over his chest. “This isn’t goodbye, you know,” he muttered.

Sorey blinked and then smiled, something like relief crossing his face. “Yeah.”

Mikleo finally glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. At what he saw, he gentled, and felt his own smile curl up in response. 

Sorey grinned wider back. He leaned forward. “So…does that mean you’ll come? To the Jaeger program?”

There were so many things Mikleo knew he should say. _I’ll try, We’ll see about that, I don’t know, Maybe, You know I can’t make any promises, They may not even take me—_ but instead, all the smaller young man found leaving his lips was, “Well, _duh_. _Someone’s_ got to make sure you don’t hurt yourself in that giant robot, after all.”

_And who better than the person who already knows you best, right?_

He was kicking himself for his reckless words but then again, the grin that split Sorey’s face immediately afterwards could have lit _worlds_.

“You’re the _best_ , Mikleo!” he burst, and before Mikleo could stop him, the brunet launched forward and flung his arms around him, hugging him tightly to his chest.

Mikleo stiffened at first, but the hug was over before he could be embarrassed about it being in front of the whole village. Sorey moved his hands to Mikleo’s shoulders, and when he got a look at his face, Mikleo could see that his eyebrows were furrowed, tightly wound like he was battling the urge to cry. “Sorry, I just—that makes me really happy. Thank you.”

Mikleo gentled, a soft smile coming to his features. “You dork,” he murmurs, fondness seeping into his tone.

Sorey laughed a little and wiped at his face. Had a tear escaped? “Yeah. I guess so.” He smiled at Mikleo for a moment more, before one of the officers behind him reminded him that it was time to go. He turned around briefly to acknowledge it before he looked to Mikleo again. “Look, I’ll—I’ll wait for you, okay?”

Mikleo’s eyes darted to all of the uniformed people who waited for Sorey, his chest starting to ache oddly again. “Yeah. Okay,” he murmured back.

Sorey nodded. He turned to leave, but it was slow. Clearly unwanted.

Mikleo found himself calling out before he could think better of it. “Sorey!”

It was like Sorey was waiting for him to call his name. He jerked around, hopeful. “Yeah?”

_I think I lo—_

“—don’t forget to charge that phone Gramps got you!” he said. “And take pictures with it! That’s what it’s there for!”

Sorey laughed. “Yeah, okay!”

“And call us!”

“I will!”

Sorey waved at him, and waved at the village as the door of the truck opened. Mikleo watched him, even as the rest of Elysia waved back behind him. He watched, hands still idly lifted around his mouth, though there was nothing more to say.

Sorey climbed into the truck. The door closed.

The other officers climbed in, and the truck started. Through the tinted back window, Mikleo could faintly see the outline of his friend’s face, turning around to peer at him, at them all. At what would always, always be his home, no matter where he was.

Sorey pressed a hand flat to the back window.

Mikleo raised his own in mirror response. Or was he reaching?

The truck drove forward, and Mikleo felt like a hollow echo. He stepped forward, his heart lurching in his chest as the black vehicle moved further and further away.

His eyes followed it until it became a speck, and then nothing. His hand was still outstretched.

He was, he decided, definitely reaching.  
  


* * *

 

Sorey swallowed, watching until Elysia was out of his sight.

Then, when it was just him, in a truck full of strangers, and on a road to a future that included nothing he knew and no one he loved, he finally turned around. He looked to his left to see the grim faces of the officers who had retrieved him. He looked ahead to the front two seats to see their commanding men. None of them looked to him; in fact, none of them looked even too present or aware of each other. They all seemed exhausted, and it occurred to Sorey, that he had no idea where these people had come from, or what it took for them to get here.

They could have lost so much more than he was losing right now, and for good, too. And he would never even know.

Eventually Sorey sighed. He leaned against the door of the truck, feeling his head nod with every bump and jostle of their vehicle along the worn road. He watched the trees of Aroundight Forest go by, and watched the sun filter through the canopy of leaves, until he couldn’t bear to watch what he knew as home for perhaps the last time pass him by.

He closed his eyes. He curled up in his seat, and pressed his forehead into the cool of the glass. He hid his face in his folded arms.

To his credit, Sorey did his very best not to cry.


	2. te

“Did he talk on the drive? At all?”

Clemm shook her head, restraining a wince. “No, your highness,” she murmured. “Not a word.”

Alisha Diphda’s eyes drifted to the young man who looked to be about her age, and yet at the same time, who looked so much younger. He looked so very lost, and so small compared to the sweeping walls and length of the lobby of the Jaeger base.

Her mouth pinched together, and she adjusted her clipboard against her hip. “…strange…” she hummed. “The reports all said he was lively and talkative. Why the sudden reservation?”

“He’s far from home, Miss,” Clemm said to her softly. The officer’s eyes darted to the young man in question as he hurriedly backstepped out of a briskly walking worker’s way. “He has no friends here…you name it. I don’t blame him for not saying anything, not when this is all so _new._ ”

“Yes,” Alisha sighed. She dipped her head, and her ponytail bounced. “I suppose you’re right.” She turned to Clemm, a quiet exhale leaving her. “Well, we should lead him to his quarters, then. The sooner he gets settled in, the sooner he can start to make friends, yes?”

She didn’t say that the reality was he might not even remain at Lakehaven Heights for long, so those connections may not even be strong or valuable in the end. Lakehaven Heights was the closest base to Ladylake, so it had its fair share of workers and volunteers. The young man—practically a boy—might be sent to another base where he was more needed, instead; somewhere there were less people nearby to support it. Perhaps some place like Zaphgott Moor.

But even if Lakehaven Heights didn’t remain his home, the very least Alisha knew she could do, as princess of Hyland and assistant overseer of the Hyland Jaeger Force itself, was make sure he would be welcomed as if he would be here to stay anyway.

Clemm smiled. She clasped her hands behind her back, looking at her superior with a knowing dark eye. “Well, perhaps her highness would like to be his first?” she murmured.

Alisha’s head snapped to her assistant with surprise. “I—what? No—Clemm, you _know_ I don’t have time for—“

“It was just a suggestion, Miss,” Clemm said with a bow of her head, though her smile didn’t fade away in the slightest. “Think nothing of it, then.”

Alisha fought the flush that wanted to rise in her cheeks. She straightened and turned to begin walking to the newest member—however temporary—to her crew. “Yes, well. Thank you for that,” she said. The uniformed princess set off at a brisk walk, her boots thumping against the metal walkway in measured pace.

“You’re welcome,” Clemm hummed to her back, knowing that of them all, perhaps it was Alisha who needed a true friend the most.

 

* * *

 

Sorey was both surprised and delighted to meet Alisha Diphda, the beloved princess of Hyland, and his overseer. Most of all, he was amazed that she seemed only a year or two older than him and yet, held such an important and administrative position over them all.

But voicing that comment made her laugh, her face burning a bright red. “I assure you, it’s nothing of my own doing,” she quickly replied with a shake of her head. Her golden hair, pulled to the side of her face, bounced with the movement.

Sorey didn’t think he was qualified to argue the topic one way or another, but her humility made him smile.

Then Alisha mentioned something about showing him to where he could put his belongings before giving him a tour of the facility. It sounded like a plan; Sorey nodded, and allowed himself to be lead away.

That was how he met the others.

He had dropped off his bags in his room, and had been shown the cafeteria, the workout room, and training areas, trying to take great care in memorizing the path Alisha took to kindly lead him to each location. Then, on their way to see the recreational room, he began to hear the lively keys of a piano playing a jaunty, joyful melody that Sorey could feel himself start to bounce to the further they walked. Alisha turned to watch him with a smile. Sorey just laughed.

Stepping inside the rec room, to Sorey’s delight, brought them to the very source of the music itself, as well as to a handful of other individuals who he did not expect to see:  a tall, pale-haired lady sitting at the keys of a baby grand piano, a red-headed young woman with a black and silver-cuffed jacket who held a pool cue in her hand, standing around a green-furred pool table with a broad-shouldered, black-clothed man on the other side who had long, white-green hair covering his face. Sorey watched as the man bent over a pool table in the center of the room and knocked the only white ball on the table into a striped 12. The ball labeled with the 12 swung gently into a netted hole, and at the sound, the man smiled, straightening up.

The red-headed young woman, however, scrunched up her face and stomped her foot. She rammed the end of her pool cue into the ground, and Sorey could see even from the doorway the wood of the stick tremble at the impact. “That’s not fair…! How are you so good at this?!”

If the pale-blonde haired man could purr, Sorey supposed he would have in that moment. He crossed his arms over his chest, pool cue resting gently against his hip.

The woman at the piano giggled at his steady silence. “I think that means it’s a secret, Rose,” she said looking over her shoulder at the two. But her large, teal eyes must have caught a glimpse of Sorey when she turned because abruptly, she stopped playing the piano. She gasped and turned around more fully—and when her eyes landed on Sorey again, seeing him fully, a wide smile overtook her features. Pale, slender hands flew to her cheeks, framing her face with happy shock. “Oh, Alisha!” she burst. “Is this him?”

“What?!” Rose jerked her head around to see Sorey, as well. Instantly, her jaw slacked and eyes widened. “Nuh- _uh_!” she cried. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Alisha smiled and shook her head.

Rose sputtered as the tall, imposing man turned towards him, too. It was hard to tell if the guy was looking at him or not through all that hair, but Sorey decided not to try and find out. He returned his gaze to Rose as she said, “ _This_ is our newest pilot?! He’s just a _kid_!”

Sorey flushed and Alisha stepped forward, earnest and quick. “He’s not to be put in a real Jaeger yet, Bartlow said! We just need him on stand-by, and to get him fully certified as soon as possible.” Sorey noticed her own cheeks were as red as his own, it seemed. “But he _has_ already been undergoing armitization training, and he _is_ prepared for simulation. That much, I was assured.”

Sorey didn’t miss the way the three other people in the room looked to him when they heard that word.

Rose stuck her hip out, propping the curve of her hand against it as relief and curiosity painted her face at the same time. She looked nearly cat-like. “…oh. Armitization, huh?” she murmured. “I get it. So you’re that Shepherd kid, then.”

Sorey blinked, and reached up a hand to scratch the back of his head. Self-consciousness ate at him. “I guess? How do you know my name?”

Rose scoffed a little and shrugged. “Well, I mean, we all kind of do.” She turned towards the pool table again and leaned over as she readied her pool cue against the white ball. “Besides, I’m also _kind of_ your prototype, so. I guess it’s a pleasure to finally meet what all the confidentiality was about. Didn’t know they were crib-growing their secret weapon, though.”

“ _Rose_ ,” the woman at the piano scolded, a frown pinching at her smooth face as she stood.

“Whatever.” Rose made an odd pop with her mouth as she focused on the game at hand; it was then Sorey noticed she had gum in her mouth. His eyes watched as she knocked the white ball towards a solid 6, and rolled the gum under her tongue as it bounced off of a wall and then slowed to a halt. “Damn.”

The black-jacketed and broad-shouldered man adjusted the hat on his head, clearly pleased. “My turn.”

“Suck ass, Dezel.”

The man chuckled quietly, and the woman from the piano walked towards Sorey, gathering his attention. She smiled sweetly and held out a hand. “Don’t mind Rose. She means well. But no matter what she says, it’s so very nice to finally meet you, Shepherd…”

“Sorey,” Sorey filled in, flushing with a smile. He took the woman’s hand and shook it. “I think you have it backwards, really. _Sorey_ Shepherd is my name.”

That seemed to delight the piano player all the more. Her aqua eyes brightened. “Wonderful!” she practically crowed. “Well met!” She shook his hand in return and giggled. “I’m Lailah. I believe we’ll be working together from here on out!” She laughed again and shook his hand a third time. “Oh, but it _is_ so nice to meet you! Ah, I’ve said that, haven’t I? Goodness…!”

Sorey just laughed, and Alisha hid her smile behind a gloved hand. She turned to take some notes on her clipboard, and it was then Sorey took the time to ask Lailah, finally pulling his hand free from hers, “Yeah. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” But… “…you said we’ll be working together…?”

Lailah hummed and nodded, clasping her hands before her lace skirt. “Yes! I doubt Alisha has told you yet, but you and I—we’re going to be co-pilots, Sorey. We’ve been selected as drift partners, which means we’ll be getting to know each other well very soon!”

Oh.

So she was going to be…

Sorey smiled up at Lailah, even as his heart pounded hard inside his chest. Lailah smiled back.

“That’s…great!” Sorey mustered, feeling the words rise out of him with more exuberance than he felt.

His new drift partner clasped her hands together above her chest. “Isn’t it?” She sighed softly, and let her hands fall before her again, neatly folded. “You’re probably exhausted from your journey here, though, so I imagine you should rest. But I want you to know that I look forward to training with you tomorrow. I have a feeling it’s going to be a lot of fun.”

Sorey nodded back, hoping it truly would be. Because the way he was feeling right now, with Mikleo’s visage haunting the back of his mind, “fun” was the last thing he was anticipating.

His new cell phone burned hot in his pocket.

 

* * *

 

Sorey stared at the screen later that evening, his thumb brushing over the numbers gleaming up at him. He hadn’t found out until he returned to his room that afternoon that in reality, the bedroom he had stuffed his bags into was part of a two-bedroom apartment which he would share with Lailah. His new co-pilot. It was surprising, but perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Occupying the same space only made _sense_ when they were being trained to share the same _mind._

Still, it brought something else to get used to, if not Lailah’s presence itself:  returning to an empty bedroom, where Mikleo _wasn’t_ by the end of the day.

Sorey brushed the numbers once more with his thumb, before he gathered the courage required to press them. He had memorized the digits by now; knew the soft jingle they played when keyed in by heart. He lifted his phone to his ear and held his breath.

It rang only once.

_Click._

“Sorey?”

Sorey blinked hard and he smiled. He exhaled, his muscles uncoiling. “Mikleo,” he greeted. Warmth blossomed in his chest. “How did you know it was me?”

There was a soft laugh on the other end. “You haven’t used your phone before now, have you?” His tone was all-too-knowing. As it always was.

“So?” Sorey huffed and fell back against his mattress. Even though he was miles away, suddenly, he felt like he was right at home again. He rested his free hand on his stomach, staring up at his dark ceiling. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“Sorey,” Mikleo’s voice was chiding, now. Amused. He could hear the smile in the other’s voice, and if Sorey closed his eyes, he could picture it, too—the little half-moon smirk that played on a pale, youthful face, lit underneath glimmering lavender eyes that were always laughing at him. “When someone’s calling you, it’ll show their number and name on the front.”

“What? Nuh-uh.”

Mikleo laughed. “ _Yeah-_ huh,” he retorted. “Here. Hang up, and _I’ll_ call _you._ ”

So Sorey did, frowning at his phone as he ended the call. He only had to wait for a moment before his phone lit up and chimed with an incoming call. Sure enough, there on the front screen was written Mikleo’s name and number across a green box. Sorey smiled widely, answering and pulling his phone to his ear again.

“ _Whoa,_ ” he enthused. Mikleo laughed.

“Told you so.” There was pride in his childhood friend’s voice. “Now, that’s one for me I believe, right?”

Sorey groaned and grabbed his pillow. He stuffed it over his face for a moment before he threw it to the side aimlessly. “I _guess_ ,” he grumbled, but he smiled as Mikleo chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I’m not keeping track.” A pause, before Mikleo added, “Much.”

Sorey rolled his eyes and turned over on his bed. “Har har.”

Mikleo hummed on the other end. And then, quietly, so softly that Sorey almost didn’t catch it, “I miss you.”

Sharply, Sorey’s chest ached. His fingers reached for his adjacent wall, watching the way they curled and stretched and reminded of the way his hand looked pressed against tinted glass, looking out the back of a lonely truck. “Yeah,” he said back, equally as quiet and subdued. “I miss you, too.”

“How is it there?”

Sorey shrugged to the darkness. He was at a loss for what to say. “It’s nice,” he answered back. He blinked slow, fingers brushing against the top of his blanket. “But _definitely_ very different than Elysia.”

“Figures,” Mikleo murmured. “I mean, what with the whole ‘giant robots’ thing.”

Sorey laughed. “Yeah. Really.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence afterwards. Sorey hugged his phone to his ear, content to even just listen to the sound of Mikleo breathing on the other end.

But then:  “I should…probably let you go, huh?”

Sorey’s chest clenched, “No, you—well—“ He couldn’t lie. Lailah had made him promise to wake up pretty early to begin their workouts for the following day. He sighed. “I mean, I _do_ have to turn in soon. But not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“Not yet,” Sorey murmured with a soft smile.

There was a clear smile in Mikleo’s voice as he said back, “Okay.”

Sorey believed he could live for days off that single word. His chest swelled with the next inhale.

In that moment, he never ever wanted to leave the sanctuary of that bed.

 

* * *

 

Training with Lailah wasn’t so bad. Sorey wasn’t sure what to expect when he woke up bright and early for their arranged morning workout together, changing into loose shorts and a black t-shirt, but when he had emerged from his room to grab breakfast and saw Lailah in a pair of black capris yoga pants and a red and white-trimmed tank top, her hair pulled behind her head in the longest ponytail he had ever seen—something in him inexplicably eased. Immediately, he began to feel a little bit more comfortable.

Exercise. He knew exercise.

He rocked onto his toes as he watched her dig out bowls and milk. For the first time since he left Elysia, he felt excitement tingling in his fingertips the same way it did while finding a new ruin; maybe this really _could_ be fun.

Over cereal, Lailah told Sorey about her morning routine. He was eager to get started with her the more she talked about it:  her warm-up run around the upper outdoors track of the facility—“If you’re up early enough, you can watch the sun rise as you jog! It’s _beautiful_!”—and her yoga stretches afterwards on the deck hanging off the east side of the building.

“At that point, it would be good for us to do our sparring first before we weight train. Weight training is quite exhausting and I’m never in the mood to do anything else afterwards but shower and eat!” she announced with a modest laugh. Sorey’s own mouth curled upwards, an echo of her, or perhaps just feeding off of her own joy and vivacity.

There was something warm about Lailah that was hard not to like, he noticed. As they jogged around the facility and bent over to stretch together, and then as Lailah guided him into some yoga positions to hold—all without breaking a _sweat_ , might he add—he couldn’t help but enjoy his time with her. She was kind in every touch and gentle way she’d correct his form or guide him to breathe in and breathe out.

“You’re a good teacher,” he enthused as he leaned forward, keeping his leg at a right angle and his back straight as Lailah pulled his hands up as straight as they would go above his head.

His co-pilot looked down at him and blinked once with her bright eyes. Then she laughed. “Oh! Why, thank you!” She shook her head and the motion slid all the way down her length of hair like a wave. “Of course, there are some things I _can’t_ teach you,” she added, with something too knowing and experienced in her voice that made Sorey curious. “There are some things you have to learn on your own and get your own answer for. But! I am more than happy to help wherever I can.”

“I appreciate that, Lailah,” Sorey murmured to her as she nodded her head in approval.

They ended their yoga stretches with a quick meditation, which Lailah claimed was vital for drifting partners to do together every day—“No matter _what_ Rose says,” she huffed.

So Sorey nodded, smiling, and soon enough, he found himself with his legs crossed, and his hands unfolded, gently resting upward against his knees. When Lailah was finally content with his form, she then slid down behind him, her back pressing against Sorey’s own. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and let it pool into her lap, and put her hands out against her own knees, curved towards the sky and holding a delicate, “o” shape.

Sorey did everything he was told. He felt his chest expand with the rise of his breath, and then he let his eyes shut to the clouds and the sun he could still see.

Lailah gave a quiet hum, as she guided him through the steps of meditation. As he followed along with her tender drones, Sorey could almost feel the tingling throughout his entire body as he cleared both it and his mind—all that he could visualize of himself and who he was—from stress and worry. He breathed in the solace of the moment in their present hour, with their backs pressed together and sun warming their faces and skin, and breathed out all of the fear he could still feel in the cavern of himself.

The process was comforting; it was nice.

And when Lailah began speaking afterwards, keeping her voice lowered and hushed, Sorey found her questions unobtrusive.  Some part of him, he found, was more ready to bare himself before her than before.

“Sorey?”

“Hm?”

“In all your training, they never made you drift yet, correct?”

“Yeah—I mean—“ Sorey chuckled quietly. He kept his eyes closed even as he spoke. Somehow, he knew Lailah was doing the same. “—I mean no. I haven’t drifted yet.”

For which, Sorey was ultimately grateful. He was still waiting, after all.

There was a gentle smile in Lailah’s voice. “I see. Then…you won’t know this, but the neural handshake is kind of like this,” she pointed out, her voice still so soft and tender like the crackling of a campfire—or the pit in the center of Gramps’ hut. A hearthfire. “You close your eyes when you first go into the drift.”

“You do?”

Lailah hummed again, a small chime of confirmation. “Yes. But just for a moment. It’s too much for your mind to handle at once—especially the first time you drift with someone. All of their new memories and thoughts and experiences and feelings can so quickly overwhelm your senses. You get used to being in a person’s head, after a while, so to speak. You get used to who they are and what they bring with them into your connection. But at first, it’s all so _new._ And the naissance of it can be distracting, preventing you from fully armitizing with them.”

Lailah took a breath, and Sorey could feel the rise and fall of it through her back. “If I could only impart with you one piece of advice, Sorey, the most important lesson I could ever give you is that once you _are_ in the drift, you must open your eyes.”

“Okay,” Sorey said. He could feel his heart pick up pace in his chest just at the thought. The importance of such a simple motion. Would he forget it, when he eventually drifted? Would he—?

He could feel Lailah shift against his back. He opened his eyes and turned to face her, seeing she was already looking at him over her shoulder, a gentle gaze in her eyes that was as soft as her voice. Her hands lay limp over her knees. “And don’t be afraid,” she told him, too. “Remember you are not alone. I will always, always be there.”

Sorey exhaled. He nodded. “Thank you, Lailah.”

Lailah nodded back; her smile was kind.

Sorey smiled back for a moment, before he bowed his head and swallowed. Guilt and nervousness ate at him; the effect of the meditation they had gone through together already starting to dissipate. “Can I ask you a question?”

Lailah hummed carefully. “I suppose.”

“What was it like for you? The first time you—“

“—oh, look at the time!” Lailah suddenly interrupted, gasping. She moved to a stand and waved her hands once to balance herself before she turned to help a puzzled Sorey up. “Oh, Sorey! We simply _must_ get to the training room! If we don’t get there soon, then we’ll be late, and Dezel and Rose will get there before we do and we’ll have to _wait_ to actually spar!”

“I—what—“ Sorey stuttered, and Lailah didn’t let go of his hand. She just pulled him forward.

“Hurry, Sorey!”

“O-okay!”

He let himself be led off the platform and back inside the building, at a loss for what it was that had just happened.

 

* * *

 

In reality, they didn’t get to the training room too late at all. Lailah opened the door to find the room completely empty, much to her exaggerated relief. And Sorey didn’t point it out, but he noticed that despite what Lailah made it sound like, the room was large enough for four people to be sparring at once. There were enough mats in the corner and rods on the rack of the wall that they needn’t have worried about having enough space and resources to train.

All the same, he let Lailah titter as she walked to the wall and he followed her, helping her set up their space for their session.

And then, just as he had staff in hand, and stood across from Lailah on the mat to begin, the door to the training room opened. A loud voice rang out, “Oh! Oh, wait! Wait, I _have_ to see this! Hold on just a sec!”

Sorey blinked and turned around to see Rose, grinning as she hurried over to their mat. She wore a loose and deep pink, short-sleeved shirt over what looked like sleeveless black leotards that ended at her knee. Her hair was pulled up behind her head in a high bun; what tendrils weren’t long enough to stay bound, dangled around her face in a flattering way. Her blue eyes were bright.

But when she came up to them, she crossed her arms over her chest. Sorey could see Dezel right behind her, following in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants. He still had his hat on.

“Well?” Rose prompted, her grin on her face challenging as she surveyed the two. “Now’s your chance. Time to finally show us what you’re made of, oh great and powerful Shepherd.”

Lailah huffed on the other side of the mat, a frown pinching at her mouth. “Rose. His name is _Sorey._ ”

“They won’t call him that. You know that,” Rose pointed out, her gaze briefly flickering to Lailah. Her eyes then flew back to Sorey. Her hip popped out again, her weight unevenly distributed in her stance. “So? We don’t have all day. Hop to it, man. Are you really as good at armitization as they say?”

Sorey didn’t know what it was exactly that “they” said. He shook his head and supposed he could try, all the same.

He turned to look at Lailah, and his partner nodded to him. He readied his stance.

Having two other sets of eyes on him as he sparred reminded him of his younger days, when the men in the black suits had come to Elysia with unknown intentions and would watch him play with his friends. Somehow, however, he found himself more nervous now than he was then.

“Ready?” Lailah asked and when Sorey nodded, she moved forward.

Instantly, Sorey mimicked her. He kept his bo at the ready, extended at his side more like it was a sword than a staff. Mikleo preferred to fight with it like it was a staff, he remembered.

Mikleo.

Sorey almost missed the first swing Lailah gave at him, and hurriedly, he moved to block it. He wasn’t prepared, though; he wasn’t fast enough. At his sloppy parry, Lailah quickly spun around to tap her bo against his neck on his other side, changing sharply from her original point of contact. Sorey froze, and held still as she counted.

“One, zero.”

Sorey sighed as Rose snickered. Dezel made a quiet sound, and Sorey returned to his edge of the mat, swallowing. That had gone by so _fast._ He wasn’t paying attention enough. He could almost hear his instructors’ voices in his head, and the disappointment that would drip from their tones whenever he had made a mistake.

He knew better than this. Come _on,_ Sorey.

Lailah turned to him from her end again. Her face was hard to read, carefully guarded.

This time, she didn’t ask if he was ready. She just gracefully stepped forward on bare feet, toes pressing down into the red of the mat. Sorey did the same.

This time, though, he was prepared.

When Lailah came at him, he blocked properly. He shoved his weight behind his staff and pushed her off, completing his circle so she could never turn her back to him. That was part of her strength, he decided:  her swiftness. Lailah was tall, slender. She moved like a dancer across the floor, with the precision and charisma of a musician. And if she was allowed that free range of motion, there was no stopping the heat of her attacks. It was like she moved to the peppered notes along a melody; an arpeggio here, a scale there and—

Oh.

Wait.

This time, when Lailah struck at him, he dodged. He listened, practically bending his ear her rhythm as she moved. If he listened carefully enough, it was almost as if—it was almost as if he could hear her.

She was singing a song in her head, wasn’t she?

_Wham._

Sorey fell back as he missed track of Lailah’s movements, her bo swiping his feet out from underneath him and sending him toppling to the mat. Then, when he was down, Lailah pressed the end of her staff to his neck again.

“Two, zero.”

This time, Rose sighed.

Sorey hopped to his feet, and something in his eyes must have encouraged Lailah, because her careful mask slipped the moment she saw his face. She watched him with curiosity in her teal eyes as she backed away to her side. Sorey mimicked her and went to his own side.

He didn’t look down once.

But this time, he did take the first move.

Lailah let him, watching him carefully as he circled the mat. Once more, the young man kept his bo extended at his side like a blade. And when Lailah came for him, he dodged. He refused to attack; he wouldn’t. Not just yet. He didn’t want to break his concentration, not when he was studying his partner’s moves so carefully. What song was it…?

It was only when Lailah stepped forward to swing down her bo from above that Sorey finally attacked.

He had figured it out.

Lailah deflected his swing, but he wasn’t deterred. He moved with the fluid grace that he had taken from her, that he had learned from her, and leaped to her other side to come at her hip. Lailah parried it yet again, lightning fast, but this time, there was a certain kind of excitement that lit up her face. Sorey smiled at the sight.

Had she caught on?

She looked to him, eyes snapping to his own with a question in their depths; Sorey’s grin only widened.

Without responding, Lailah moved her bo at his head and Sorey ducked, placing a hand against the ground to roll over and get to her other side. He kept down as she swung again. He put his feet beneath him and then came up in time to deflect her more direct thrust to his head.

Lailah rebounded, bouncing from the move and spinning to get to his other side. Sorey reflected the motion and kept her off of him. He parried her swings and his sides and chest, forcing her to back up as he kept the momentum moving laterally.

It was like dancing. It was like breathing.

For one moment, it was _life._

Then, he broke it.

He swung his bo hard at hers when she was in the middle of a swing at him. Lailah stumbled backwards, back bent as she tried to regain her footing, but Sorey stuck out his foot to trip her into falling. At once, as soon as her back was on the floor and her light hair splayed out around her face like the rays of a sun, he pressed his bo to the side of her neck, panting.

“Two, one,” he said breathlessly. A grin started to stretch onto his face. He took another ragged breath. “That was ‘Lady of the Lake,’ wasn’t it?”

The room was still.

Faintly, he could hear Rose whisper, “Damn.”

That made his grin stretch further. But really, it was Lailah’s smile up at him, both amazed and exhilarated as her chest heaved with breath like his own, that truly filled him with pride. She could feel it just as he did, then.

Drift compatible.

They were drift compatible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not a huge note, but I did change the second pairing in this fic to Alisha/Rose, because with the way I started going with this, I think they're going to have better chemistry than Rose and Lailah are.
> 
> Also, on another note, please tell me to stop because I thought this would only be three chapters, but then I started writing this one, and it turned into a behemoth because there's so much more I want to put in here than I originally planned. And now, all of my careful work is out the window and I don't know how long this is actually going to be and.
> 
> (ノ ゜Д゜)ノ ︵ ┻━┻ 
> 
> o feck it


	3. connais

Sorey only got a moment’s reprieve before Rose kicked off her shoes and socks and stepped onto the mat, demanding their newest pilot spar with her next. Lailah laughed. With Sorey’s help, she lifted herself to her feet deftly so she could move out of the way.

“Oh, it’s an _experience,_ Rose,” she hummed as she passed her, and Sorey wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He could only assume that it was intended as a compliment.

In the end, Rose and Sorey’s fight did not last so near as long as Lailah’s had; now that he was focused, Sorey was able to evenly work around Rose with the same fluidity and fluency he had fought with Lailah just moments earlier. He didn't even have to warm up to armitize.

However, Rose was a far different fighter than Lailah, Sorey quickly discovered. She was less grace and dance, and more speed and acrobatics. She was an athlete; someone who had undergone heavy gymnastic training for sport rather than performance. He could tell; in every kick she gave, in every jump and flip; she was someone who breathed agility. She used height and close quarters to her advantage, brandishing her bo almost like it were two separate weapons in her hands rather than one.

And though it was clear that Rose’s fighting skill was far above Sorey’s own, Sorey found himself having _fun_ trying to keep up with her.

His attempts to thwart her and work around her own fighting style, however amateurish when compared to her own, still astounded the redhead. Sorey could see her blue eyes turn bright as they clashed. Every time he got a glimpse at her as she moved, he knew she, too, could feel the connection between them.

They, too, were drift compatible.

And then, when they stood together panting, with both staffs aimed at the other’s neck—ending their perfect score of three-three in a tie of four-four—Rose’s wide eyes stared at him in shock.

“No way,” she breathed. Slowly, a smile spread on her face. “Shit. You really _are_ the shit!”

Dezel made a sound beside the mat as if he disapproved of her word choice, but Rose only laughed, finally pulling away from Sorey. She rested her staff against her shoulder, her grin miles wide. She rested her free hand on her hip. “Sorry. But for _real,_ though. How do you do that?”

“Oh—uh—“ Sorey knew what she was talking about. It was all anyone from a Jaeger base seemed to want to talk to him of for the last decade. “—the armitization thing?”

“Yeah.” Rose shook her head. “It’s amazing! I mean, usually, it takes time for someone to become drift compatible with someone else, even if they _do_ have a high amount of resonance. But you…” She laughed again, breathless. Wowed. “…you just pick someone up on the spot and become compatible with them like _that_. _How?_ ”

Sorey shrugged, a faint flush coming to his face. “I…I don’t know. I just do? I guess?” He scratched the back of his head, chuckling softly. “Sorry, I know that’s not the best answer…”

Rose shrugged back, her grin not deterred. “If it’s the truth, it’s the truth, man,” she said and she swung her staff down to the ground to lean against it like it was her pool cue instead of a practice weapon. “Still. Good to know that you’re the real deal, and not just some kid they’re sending to us like a lamb to the slaughter. I mean, not that I doubted you—but I kind of did. You’re like, just a kid, so...”

“Rose,” Lailah scolded again, huffing with her cheeks puffed out.

Rose shrugged back, asking innocently, “What?” while Sorey blinked at the two of them.

Curiosity filled him and a quick glance to Dezel told him that the other man wasn’t going to say anything on the subject. He turned to Rose again, frowning slightly. “Have they really done that before? Just sent someone out without—“

“— _I_ think it’s time for some weight training, don’t you?” Lailah burst in and reached forward for Sorey’s staff. She pulled it from him quickly, grabbing his arm to turn him around and walk him back towards the door.

Sorey tried to look behind him, puzzled, once more at a loss for what was going on. But Rose and Dezel didn’t seem surprised in the least. In fact, Rose was smiling, her free hand now on her hip as she watched them leave. He just barely saw her finally turn to her drifting partner to murmur something to him before Lailah set down his staff beside the door and lead him from the training room.

There was, he decided, a reoccurring theme with Lailah he was beginning to notice. Though he couldn’t, for the life of him, try to determine why.

 

* * *

 

Above all else, the one thing Sorey found himself appreciative of, and that which he began to cling to as life at the Jaeger base normalized for him, was the routine that Lailah kept him to. Day by day, morning by morning, they together ate breakfast, ran, stretched, and sparred in a distinct order that Sorey began to find soothing.

And as his first week at Lakehaven Heights Jaeger base began to blur together in a rhythm of exercise, training, and “bonding time” (as Rose called it), Sorey began to find himself growing accustomed to his new surroundings. He missed the mountains and clouds and fields of Elysia, of course; but it helped that he was developing friends who would wave him over to sit beside them at lunch, and friends who would help teach him new fighting techniques before flipping him over their shoulder and to his ass on the mat; friends who would challenge him to a card game of euchre in their free time in the evenings since, “There’s four of us, now! Alisha _can’t_ say no this time!”

And dare he say it, because of said friends, Sorey’s time at the base was beginning to grow just a little more enjoyable each day.

“If only you were here, Mikleo,” Sorey found himself saying one night, feet kicked up against his bedroom wall and head hanging off the opposite end of the mattress, eyes blinking at his bureau upside-down. “I think you’d like them, once you got to know them. And I think they’d like you, too.”

Mikleo scoffed back, his breath puffy over the phone. “I wouldn’t be there for _them._ ”

That made Sorey smile. “No, but you should be here for _yourself_.”

Mikleo got quiet after that.

It took Sorey a moment, before it hit him that perhaps what his childhood friend was wanting to say was, _But you’re not even there for_ your _self._

So he changed the subject, something about the moment reminding him of Lailah, and instead, he rattled about the food in the cafeteria. Mikleo followed his segue easily enough and talked back in his usual teasing banter, and that was that.

A few days later, Alisha told Sorey and Lailah that the “supervisors” were looking to have them begin simulation drops in the following few weeks. In order for Sorey to have an idea of what they would be like, both he and Lailah were invited to watch Rose and Dezel complete a model drop in the simulation chamber for them.

The drop itself that Rose and Dezel completed wasn’t particularly eventful. They walked him through the process of suiting up and getting into position within the Jaeger cockpit. Then, as he and Lailah stood outside, they watched a screen that showed what Rose and Dezel were seeing and experiencing inside.

Fighting the simulated kaiju was a little scary, Sorey had to admit. But Rose and Dezel took it down like it was nothing; like they had done it before. It occurred to Sorey that perhaps they even had, for real.

It was the following day, after their regular meditation, with his back still pressed to Lailah’s, that Sorey decided it was finally time to talk to Lailah.

 

* * *

 

“You…don’t want to drift?” she asked him, her voice curious and at the same time, a touch worried. She turned to look at him, her hands pressed to the metal of the balcony beneath them. Her teal eyes met his green ones and he winced.

“I don’t know if that’s exactly what I’m trying to say,” he muttered honestly to her. Sorey turned as well, still cross-legged, but now facing his co-pilot. He hoped she wasn’t disappointed or hurt. “It’s just that I made a promise.” Kind of. “To someone. And I was kind of hoping that maybe I could keep it.”

Lailah’s mouth curved into a careful frown. Her eyes never once left his face, continually searching for answers that maybe she was having a hard time finding. “You made a promise not to drift?”

Sorey shook his head, chuckling nervously. “No, not that.” He bowed his head, fingers picking at his tennis shoes. He added quietly, “I just…I promised someone that when I drifted, it would be with them. That I’d wait for them to get here, where I am. And that when we could do this, we _would_ do this, together.” _Like we have everything else._

Something in Lailah’s expression changed at that. Whatever confusion she had previously felt melted away. She blinked slowly at him. “Sorey, can I ask you a question?” she said softly.

Sorey’s eyes jumped up to hers again, a little surprised. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, sure.”

“How long have you been in your, um…’program’?”

Sorey chuckled quietly and shrugged, scrunching his face up as he thought about it. “Oh, gosh. It kind of feels like forever, I guess. I don’t think I even remember too much about life before my training started.”

It seemed to be an answer that sufficed.

Lailah nodded after a moment, her form gentling. Her eyes were incredibly soft, incredibly fond, as she looked to her younger co-pilot. She stretched forward and took both of his hands in hers, squeezing them like a reassurance. “Then all right. We may not be able to do much, but we will see if we can hold onto your promise for as long as possible. All right, Sorey?”

For whatever reason, he had a feeling that her words would turn up empty. He had a feeling that nothing that they talked about here on this deck above the base would actually matter in the long run; what was happening to him and Lailah both seemed so far out of their control that this moment here under the morning sun felt largely unimportant.

But he was grateful for Lailah’s willingness, understanding, and ever-present kindness, all the same.

Sorey nodded back and squeezed Lailah’s hands in return. “Thanks, Lailah.”

The young woman giggled softly, happily.

It was the closest Sorey had felt towards hope that what he and Mikleo had talked about would actually become a reality.

 

* * *

 

In the end, like so many other parts of his life—perhaps all of it, he was beginning to think—that was orchestrated by someone else, Sorey didn’t get his wish.

None of the overseers cared to hear how Sorey didn’t “want” to drift yet. He was almost old enough to begin simulations; he was, by the overseers’ verdict, ready to begin drifting now. No matter that they were suggesting he go in to the simulation chamber a year earlier than what they had originally planned for; no matter what hilltop childhood promises the boy himself had made, Glenwood had to come first.

It always did.

Alisha relayed all this to Sorey in the quiet of his and Lailah’s apartment the evening before their first scheduled drift. Sorey merely thanked her for bringing him the news around a tight throat and bowed head.

He supposed it had been too much to hope that he could have just this one thing.

The next day, Sorey found himself in his changing room, suiting up for his very first drift.

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t stop his heart from pounding in his chest. The simple act of putting on his armored suit—something which Dezel had made him practice and practice and practice over and over again—felt monumental. He didn’t even feel strong enough to put his arms through his sleeves and turn around to let his assistants zip up and clasp together his back. He felt numb.

His helmet was placed in his hands. His fingers pressed against the dark navy, black and white-paneling, staring at his own reflection in the shaded glass and desperately wishing time would stop. Could they not just wait? All of them, kaiju and overseer and base crew alike; could they not just pause what they were doing right here and now, and wait for Mikleo to get here? Could they not just—?

Sorey was ushered out of the changing room, and he supposed not.

He saw Lailah waiting for him in her suit of red and white with gold trim in the room beyond, tall and strong and slender and the very image of beauty and fire. She turned as he entered, and it was then he noticed her long pale hair was drawn up to the top of her head in a braided plait that circled her head like a crown. She smiled at him, teal eyes gentling into apology, and Sorey mirrored the look back.

Still, he supposed that if it had to be anyone he was forced to drift with, to truly armatize and join as one for the very first time, he would prefer it was Lailah, could it not be Mikleo. She was going to be kind, he knew; she would be gentle.

Sorey walked up to her side, and the older woman brought up a gloved hand to his hair, brushing the back of his head with careful fingers.

“You’re shaking,” she whispered to him.

Oh.

Sorey hadn’t noticed. He was just holding his helmet so tightly, he could feel nothing else.

“Shhhhh…” Lailah instantly soothed, and her hand fell to cover one of his own. “It’s going to be all right,” she said with a smile, and she squeezed his hand as best she could, holding only the half of it.

In that smile, Sorey could pretend to believe she was right. He nodded.

“Ready?”

Sorey’s head jerked around, feathers tapping his cheeks. Alisha stood before the both of them, her hands clasped behind her back. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes gaze away her anxiety. She looked as nervous as he felt.

Sorey couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Lailah nodded, and Sorey felt his own chin mimicking the motion like a mirror. Alisha nodded in return, and bowed briefly as she backed up a step.

“Good,” she said and she rocked around to lead them out of the room and to the loading dock.

Lailah didn’t let go of Sorey’s hand, and Sorey didn’t mind. He propped his helmet against his hip, a near-perfect reflection of Lailah at his side as the two walked forward, hands clasped.

When they broke out into the loading area, Sorey found his eyes darting to every part of the room. He felt overwhelmed; there was too much to see. Too many uniformed people walking around from colorful, lighted desks to colorful, lighted desks, each of them talking to each other, or in some cases, shouting. Just to be heard over the hubbub and buzz of life and work, as well as the hiss and shift of metal as the door to the cockpit of the Jaeger simulation unit slid open. Steam, motion, and conversation—everything seemed to come at him from every direction and all at once.

Sorey found it hard to breathe. The air tasted like fog.

Rose was there, as well, to the side of Alisha. Sorey couldn’t decide if he was relieved to see her, or all the more worried. She grinned at him, which quelled neither feeling, and waved. He tried to wave back, but ended up only shaking his helmet at her. Rose stifled her laugh behind a hand; Sorey's face flushed red.

Then Alisha was there, and she gestured them forward with a pink-lined hand. “Go on. We’re ready for you when you are.”

So Lailah led him forward once more, and Sorey let her. Together they stepped onto the walkway into the simulation chamber and once he was inside, Sorey noticed how much darker it was than in the open industrial room they had just left. Though it was not a real Jaeger, the simulation chamber modeled what Sorey was told a real Jaeger cockpit looked like:  very little walking room, and many buttons. Many cords. Many different colors from lights lit both below and above them:  plenty of yellows and reds. Lots of gaps to fall, as well, should they go beyond the railway—and what a horribly long way to fall, too, it looked like.

“Are all cockpits like this?” Sorey found himself asking, even as Lailah pulled away from his side and his hand once she stopped in front of the left side controls.

Lailah shook her head, smiling. Always smiling. “No, they tend to be as varied as their pilots,” she said and gestured him on. Sorey moved forward to the right side, his heart picking up its pace like an afterthought. He located the controls he would have in his hands once the simulation started; his stomach gave an awful lurch.

He turned his eyes to his partner, and saw her watching him. She nodded. He nodded back. They stepped into place.

As the giant metal clamps latched onto his booted feet, Sorey jolted. He hadn’t known that the change in mobility would be so drastic:  quite literally, he could not make a single step. His feet were completely unmovable; only his toes could wriggle at the forefront of his boot. All other movement was impossible, save for flexing his calves.

He tried his very hardest to breathe evenly, deeply. He slipped his helmet on, and felt cords come up from behind to clip in to the back of his head and the base of his spine. It tickled slightly. The machinery sighed and clicked around him as it settled him into position.

Sorey reached forward to grab onto the handles at the base of his controls. The door to the chamber slid shut with a hiss and thud.

Alisha’s voice crackled over the speakers in his helmet. She sounded so close, as if she was right behind him, even though she was an entire room away. “All right. Testing, testing, one, two, three…can you hear me? Sorey? Lailah?”

Sorey exhaled. “Yeah. I can hear you, Alisha,” he said, and nodded; the motion felt heavy with the weight of everything he was now plugged into.

“As can I!” Lailah chirped, like they were just conversing about the weather.

“Good.” Alisha’s voice disappeared for a moment, and then she came on again. “All right. All of us here are set to begin the neural handshake from our end. Are you two ready?”

No. He really wasn’t.

But Sorey nodded anyway, his gut swirling. He swallowed down the nausea that attempted to rise and gripped the handles before him tighter. “Yeah! Let’s do this!” he shouted into his helmet, gripping the handles before him as tight as he could.

He could hear Lailah cheer both beside him and over their communication system, boosting his own resolve.

“That’s the spirit!” Rose also said on the other end, her clapping loud and encouraging.

He smiled, breathless. He might actually throw up.

“Then, if we are all set to begin, I will begin the countdown,” Alisha said. There was a small pause, a small reprieve. A beat of silence; and then:  “Neural handshake to begin in three. Two. One…”

There was a rush.

Suddenly, a burst of light glared behind Sorey’s eyelids as he snapped them shut and gasped. At once he was both there and not; an entity unto himself and yet entirely unmade in the same instant, yanked from his own body and pulled far away, while also left standing to his own self. Completely untouched. Completely un _done_. It—

—it was a lot like fal _ling._

_Falling into old ruins. Shaken stone and dust; careful now, you’ll get it in your lungs. But that’s what it’s there for! You gotta breathe it in! C’mon, Mikleo, don’t be so scared—_

[Sorey?]

_—he turns and sees red; red where there’s supposed to be teal. Eyes blink and she looks around, her silhouette cutout from the darkness of Mabinogio and can she taste it? The dusk and the history. It’s alive here;_ he’s _alive. Can she see?_

[So you are, aren’t you?]

_Tag in the dusk against a grassy hillside. He laughs as he runs away from a ball of frost-white hair and teal clothing. His scarf dangles behind him, long and like a woodland trail._

_Sometimes, he wonders if Mikleo will ever catch up. He always was the faster one._

[Sorey, can you hear me?]

**Soft notes from a piano, playing a sacred song found secret among a heart. Stained glass reaching to the heavens, painting a young orphan girl below dressed in her Christmas best. She is far beneath their stretch.**

[Sorey. Don’t hang on to the memories. You need to let them flow by you; let them pass.]

_Lailah?_

**Velvet red and glittering silver. Buckled shoes kicking idly beneath a wooden pew. Pages and pages of hymns turned underneath tiny, manicured hands. A chin lifted skyward in a hope, a prayer—**

— _why can’t we taste the sky? Lying back in the grass and feeling the sun on our cheeks. What if we could kiss it back, you know? After all it gives us. Don’t you think the sun would like a thank you? A laugh and it’s bright and he says Sorey, don’t be so silly. But he doesn’t know what he means—_

**—lit like one of the wicker candles at the head of the sanctuary. Maybe this time, maybe now, someone would finally find her, and love her, and take her home.**

_Something tastes of youth, of when the world was brighter. He knows this taste. It’s of when the world was **open. Open?**_

[Yes, Sorey. Open your eyes. Can you hear me? You need to open your eyes.]

_Oh._

_Yeah._

His eyes felt heavy, crusted over. Opening them took momentous strength; strength felt Sorey wasn’t completely his own. He breathed out, shaky, and at the same time, he could feel himself breathe in.

He looked to Lailah.

His partner—co-pilot—other _half_ —was looking back at him, her own form weighted as his was. And he realized it as he stared at her that he could feel it. He could feel the bend in her back as if it was his own; the way she held her arms out, grasping her own controls. He could feel every breath. Every thought, every feeling, every notion. He could feel _her._

They—they had done it.

They were drifting, right?

Elation was the first emotion Sorey could pinpoint. Starting first like a spark in the back of their minds, and then growing into a bright flame. He smiled, and Lailah smiled back, even though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Sorey’s smile started to slip.

The world had a strange dualistic quality to it, Sorey realized; almost as if there was a visual echo of four eyes. Everything was both out of focus and also completely in focus. The effect was almost dizzying. Almost—[Are you all right?]— _Yeah_ —textured, like watching a movie in 3D but without the folded-up glasses. [Are you sure? Sorey?] _L_ _ailah…is this what it’s supposed to feel like…?_

Lailah didn’t respond, but she didn’t have to. Sorey could feel what she wanted to say burrowing around in her own head; in her own heart.

No.

No, this wasn’t what drifting was supposed to be like.

Something wasn’t right.

[Sorey…?]

_Lailah?_

**His face was kind and warm.**

_What…?_

[Sorey, wait!]

Sorey looked behind himself as if his name had been called and suddenly, he wasn’t in the Jaeger anymore.

He stood on the edge of the balcony where he and Lailah did their morning stretches and meditation. He saw the sky as it always was; as he knew it to be in the early morning with its gorgeous, acrylic gradients of both reds and violets.

Except, on the platform, it wasn’t him and Lailah. It was—

**—a moonlit face with pale hair and striking shoulders. They lean against the rails, elbows brushing each other as they talk about what they will do next time they have shore leave. The next time they get the chance to go to Ladylake.**

_Lailah…?_

**And she knows in that moment, sure as she takes her next breath, that this man here, he’s _my very best friend._**

_Mikleo—!_

**Michael.**

_What…? But he—_

[SOREY!]

**Pain.**

**It’s loud and abrasive. Sudden and unkind.**

**It erupts from everywhere, roaring through her—** _his?—_ **shaking limbs like the fire that’s lit in the cockpit. Sparking wires and screams in her head and from _his_ throat as she and _he_ can feel him torn from _them_. _They_ are ripped apart and kaiju teeth gash into _their_ arms even when there’s no kaiju on them and _he_ can feel her flesh flayed from her body even though _they’re_ still in one piece.**

**_They_ can feel it the very moment the man named Michael dies.**

_LAILAH—!_

“—neural disconnect in three, two, one—“

Release

Sorey fell back into himself, shuddering, and he felt stretched out. He sagged back against the cords behind him, eyes darting around wildly. Feverish.

What…what _was_ that?

But to what he could see, the cockpit was still in one piece. It was still hanging together, not at all falling apart or broken with fires sputtering throughout it. No alarms blared; no one was dying.

He…they…

He slid down in his suit, losing grip of the handles before him. His gloved hands hit the ground. All of a sudden, the world tilted and spilled and Sorey leaned forward towards the panels beneath him, heaving for oxygen that just wasn’t coming.

Then—Lailah.

He knew it was her even though he couldn’t see her face. He knew it the moment her knees hit the ground beside him within his peripheral vision. It was her hands that scrambled for the clasps on his helmet; her fingers that hurried to pull it off and free his head just in time before the nausea in his stomach built up too much to swallow down.

As soon as his helmet was gone, Sorey bent over and violently upended everything he had eaten that morning onto the floor of the simulation chamber.

Lailah held him. She brushed her hands against his brow and pulled his sweat-matted hair from his face. He could barely feel her, the nausea manifesting itself into a thick and heavy heat all throughout his skin; but she kept him steady and upright. In the midst of the fever-haze, Sorey still felt grateful for her help. Without her holding him, he would have fallen face-forward into his own vomit.

It wasn’t until his stomach finally started to settle down that he could hear his co-pilot whispering something to him through his hair and shaking frame. Over and over again, the same words left her lips in a delicate and desperate ribbon of a choking whisper:

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Sorey. I’m so sorry…”

Sorey didn’t know if he had the strength to ask her what for, but he raised a trembling hand to her arm. It was all he could muster before blackness swirled in around the edges of his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the problem with writing ahead of myself (because I had first written the scene with Lailah and Sorey's first drift a long time ago) is that when I come back to it, I feel like it's utter crap and doesn't fit the rest of the narrative I've written
> 
> I even had it beta-read by the gf and I still don't feel satisfied with it but here you go anyways (;-_-)


	4. par

Hot.

It was the first thing Sorey could think of when he was able to feel again. How _hot_ it was inside of him, all around him.

There were voices both distant and near, echoing in and out of his consciousness. A buzz and constant stream of noise. It was too much to try to pay attention to what the voices were actually saying. He just wished he could let them know how _miserable_ he felt. How utterly awful.

Could they fix it, he wondered? Could they make him feel better? Because that would be truly great, any second now.

“… _happened_ …”

That voice—that one, out of all the rest—sounded the most familiar. But the image of a pale face drifted away as soon as it sparked.

“…too young…! See, I knew…tried…! They wouldn’t _listen_ …!”

Something poked through his consciousness, and Sorey winced. But the movement was too heavy, too hard and he couldn’t open his eyes.

He’s so sorry, Lailah.

“…awake?”

Someone called his name, and he couldn’t pinpoint who. He was too tired.

He’s so _sorry._ He never meant for this to happen. He really did try to do it right. He wanted to be brave; he just hadn’t known…anything. He, who’s so spoiled and from sunshine and earth, who had never had known anything to fear, who hadn’t even considered that loss could be so _great_ —here he was, in the face of conflict, and Sorey supposed he really was just a coward. Just a kid. A lamb to the slaughter.

Because now, after everything, after attempting that which he had been trained to do his entire life and _failing,_ the only thing he could feel from the center of his being was that he…he just wanted to go _home_.

Sorey turned his head and sighed. The world slipped away yet again.

 

* * *

 

When Sorey next woke, it was to a hand holding his own.

He opened his eyes to warm cotton darkness and wondered how he got there. It was rather stuffy in this room, wherever he was. His bed was not particularly soft. A shift against the thin mattress beneath him brought aches and pains all along his form. Sorey winced, hissing a breath.

What had happened, again? Where was Gramps? Did he and Mikleo fall—

—oh.

No; at that word, Sorey remembered.

A hand gently touched his face.

Sorey gasped at the sudden feeling, and squeezed his eyes shut tight as a damp cloth he hadn’t been aware he was trying to look through was pulled away. Then, as his eyes began to readjust to the harsh light of the infirmary, the young man caught a brief glimpse between his pained blinks of bright white hair and violet eyes.

He couldn’t stop the second gasp that tore through his throat.

“Sorey?” those familiar thin lips asked before he could say a word.

Oh, how he had _missed_ that _voice—_

Sorey tried to say his name. He so desperately did. He opened his mouth to rasp it out, that very name he had called to every night while cradling his phone next to his ear and lying half-curled on top of his covers. But nothing came and so they both waited on the silence as if it would procure something a bit more well-deserving of such a starved reunion.

After a long moment, Sorey’s face contorted into frustration. The barest he could muster was an inaudible whisper, barely enough to count.

But Mikleo smiled anyway, gentling. He brought the cloth back with the hand that wasn’t holding Sorey’s to dab at his brow. “Wow, Sorey,” he said quietly. His tone was both teasing and fond. “Didn’t know my presence here would leave you quite so _speechless._ That’s a new one.”

Sorey huffed, trying not to laugh. But joy burst inside of him either way. His eyes watered with a hot rush.

At last, at last, something deep inside him was home.

 

* * *

 

A few drinks of water later, and Sorey’s voice was beginning to work again. The nurses who came in and interrupted his and Mikleo’s one-way conversation had told him he had been out for three days with a high fever after he and Lailah’s misaligned drift. His brief moments of waking, apparently, had not been very lucid or coherent.

“Really, we’re just glad you’re able to sit up and talk!” one nurse with dirty blonde hair pulled back behind her head said. “When your fever broke yesterday, we had hopes. But I guess you just needed to sleep it all off, huh?”

Once they left, Mikleo told him he had called the night after his first drift.

“When you didn’t answer, I…” his voice trailed off, and those gorgeous lavenders looked away. Mikleo’s lips pressed together for a moment more before he added, “Well. Gramps had us buy a television the next day. When we heard there hadn’t been an attack, we all guessed that something else must have happened.”

Sorey watched him, amazed. “So you just…marched right on over?”

The corner of Mikleo’s mouth raised. He looked back to Sorey and amaranthine met emerald. “In a manner of speaking,” he admitted, something smug and proud in his voice.

It did something good in Sorey to hear that. He chuckled and his ribs quietly ached. “Heck. I can’t believe they just let you _in,”_ he muttered, remembering the security checkpoint he had to pass through upon entering the base and subsequently, all of the paperwork that accompanied it.

Mikleo chuckled. “They didn’t. But then I started shouting something about you, and I guess that told them to get their act together.”

“Good,” Sorey exhaled and leaned back against the pillows propping him up. “Did you really come here all alone?”

Mikleo shook his head. “Kyme and Mason came with me,” he murmured. “They stayed in Ladylake, though. I’m the only one that came out to the base.”

Sorey nodded back. Kyme and Mason…he wondered if he could see them again. If he would. How were they doing? How was _Gramps_ doing? The others in Elysia? Gosh, he had so many questions for Mikleo all over again, even though he spoke to him every night. He couldn’t wait to ask them, face-to-face, now. For however long he could before Mikleo would have to leave. “Thank you for coming, Mikleo.”

“Hey, _someone_ had to keep their end of the promise, right?” Mikleo said back with a grin, leaning forward to prop his elbows up on the mattress beside Sorey’s calves. He crossed his arms, the white sleeve cuffs of his jacket blending in with the white of the pilot’s bed.

At that, Sorey sharply winced. “Yeah,” he said softly. His fingers tightened in the thin blanket covering his lap.

The tease from Mikleo’s face fell. His smile dissipated. Instantly, his Elysian friend leaned forward and murmured, “Sorey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” Sorey looked up to meet Mikleo’s eyes again. A small smile inched onto his face, but it didn’t get very far. Sorey turned his gaze downward, looking at his lap and his hands fisted in sheets of white. “But I’m still sorry. You’re right:  I didn’t keep our promise.”

There was a soft sigh from Mikleo. “That’s not what I was trying to—“ His voice cut off; the depression in the bed lifted and the white-haired youth straightened to lean back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, it wasn’t really a promise, Sorey. You don’t have to apologize for it.”

“Yeah, but…” Sorey turned his head to the side, feather earrings brushing against his cheeks.

“It was an eventuality,” Mikleo pointed out quietly, honestly. “We both knew the world wouldn’t wait for us. Not when it needed you. So don’t feel bad for doing what you had to do. Okay?”

Mikleo always had a way of making him feel better. Even if it was at the cost of himself.

Sorey let go of a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Yeah, all right,” he murmured, however hesitantly.

Mikleo nodded back.

There was a shout from beyond the door that lead to Sorey’s private room, and both Mikleo and Sorey turned their heads to see it. Sorey supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to hear who it was through the sliding door.

“No!” came Rose’s voice, loud and clear. Sorey blinked. “You guys stay the _fuck_ away from him! I’ve _had_ it with you!”

There was a quieter voice that responded, but it was masculine, stiff. Foreign. “Miss Wilkis, please understand. Now that the boy is awake, we—“

“—that boy has a _name_! By the _seraphim_.”

“Miss Wilkis—“

“—he wasn’t even supposed to be _in_ that simulation chamber in the _first_ place. Not until he was old enough.” Rose’s tone was sour, mottled with anger. Her voice dropped an octave, rumbling deep in her throat, “ _You_ guys are the reason he’s even in that bed right now. I hope you’ve learned your ridiculous lesson, because I can’t believe you had to even _learn_ it.”

The door opened, and there she stood, in a half-turn as she was moving away from the man who must have still stood in the hallway. But when Rose’s blue eyes located Sorey, she brightened. A grin crossed her face. She stepped inside and let the door slide shut behind her; it was reopened a moment later by a slightly disgruntled Dezel, who had a tight frown to his face. He shut the door with more care than his co-pilot did, as Rose bound forward towards Sorey like she hadn’t just sworn out a probably higher-ranking official minutes prior.

“Sorey! Glad to see you awake, big guy!” she grinned, coming to the side of his bed that was opposite of Mikleo. She put her hands on her hips. “How are ya feelin’?”

Sorey smiled at Rose. “Better.”

The redhead eased at that word, her shoulders releasing their tension and slanting into something more relaxed. “Good.”

There was a beat of silence before Rose shifted her weight and added with a toss of her hair, “You gave us all quite a scare back there in that simulation room, y’know; but I guess you don’t need _me_ telling you that, huh?” she said, and gave a small nod in Mikleo’s direction. Her grin widened teasingly.

Sorey flushed a little. He looked between the two quickly, noticing Mikleo seemed to have a faint color to his normally pale face, too. “Uh, I guess. Have you two already met?”

“Just yesterday,” Mikleo confirmed quietly. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest.

Rose’s grin turned to Sorey, bright and amused. “Yeah and since then, let me tell you, this guy has _not_ left your _side._ You two must be pretty close; after all, there’s only so long _I_ can stare at Dezel’s sleeping face in one sitting. And I drift with the guy!” She looked to her partner briefly, smiling widely, “No offense, Dezel.”

Dezel just grunted in response, his arms crossed over his chest as well as he stood to her side.

The red on Sorey’s cheek deepened and he laughed a little. He raised a hand to scratch at his cheek. “Yeah. I guess we are pretty close.” He looked to Mikleo, but the words seemed insufficient to describe just what Mikleo _meant_ to him. He was sure the only one who would actually understand by this point was Lailah, because she must have seen and heard and felt his memories regarding him after their armitization. “If that’s what you want to call growing up together since birth, then yeah, I’d say Mikleo and I are ‘pretty close.’”

Mikleo shot him an unimpressed look. Clearly, the same thing had crossed his mind, that those words just weren’t enough. Sorey winced in apology and those lavender eyes gentled in fond mirth.

Rose seemed oblivious either way. She grinned and shrugged, looking to Mikleo. She nodded her head to him. “Well, you’ve heard me say it before. But I’ll say it again. I’m glad that someone close to Sorey came to see him. If you need anything, just let me know. Any friend of Sorey’s is a friend here, to us. Okay?”

Mikleo flushed a little, and Sorey found something warm budding underneath his sternum. He smiled widely, watching his childhood friend.

Mikleo cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

Rose nodded to him, and looked to the brunet. Her smile softened. “Speaking of friends,” she began, carefully. “Has Lailah been by yet? Since you woke up?”

Sorey shook his head. He sobered, his hands in his lap curling against his white bedsheet. “No, not yet,” he confessed. “Why? Has she been by at all…?” Would Rose even know if she had?

Mikleo pressed his lips together thoughtfully. He tilted his head. “Lailah’s the one with the long hair, right?”

Sorey jerked his head to his childhood friend, nodding. “Yeah! She is.” His heart sped up.

Mikleo nodded, straightening up against the back of his chair. “Then yes, she’s been by. But not for very long. Once she met me, she got this strange look in her eye and suddenly left. I don’t know why. She seemed to be in a hurry, though. Said something about being late.”

Oh.

Sorey looked to Rose and Rose looked to Sorey. Instantly, the young man thought of the upper balcony and painting-perfect sunrises and yoga stretches and back-to-back meditation sessions and a hand holding his as Lailah said, “…will see if we can hold onto your promise for as long as possible. All right, Sorey?”

Sorey swallowed. Rose didn’t have to tell him what he was already feeling. He knew.

He looked to his childhood friend, and softened in gratitude. “Thanks, Mikleo.”

If Lailah had left soon after meeting Mikleo, Sorey believed he knew why. And it was nothing good that he wanted his co-pilot to hang on to.

As soon as possible, he needed to find her. He needed to find Lailah.

 

* * *

 

Sorey supposed, in retrospect, he should have known where Lailah would be.

After showing Mikleo to his shared apartment, he had found to his surprise and great dismay that she wasn’t in there already. He told his childhood friend to wait there for him and make himself at home as he continued to search for his drift partner. But she wasn’t on their morning balcony, either. She wasn’t in the cafeteria or in the training room, or the weight room, or anywhere else Sorey had thought to look, as soon as he was allowed to walk around.

He had almost given up hope of finding her until he began to near the recreation room. Just as before, just as he so often did here in this hallway, he heard the piano the closer he got.

Soft keys played a gentle melody; something uplifting, encouraging. It pulled Sorey forward, unbidden; memories that weren’t his own of stone shrinechurches and choirs and waiting to find a home slid through the forefront of his mind like the aftertaste of wine.

Sorey stepped through the door.

“Lailah?”

Her hair was wet. It rested against her back, loose and long, curling around her lap and dangling off the edge of her bench. She smelled of strawberries and cream, he noted, as he slowly walked towards her. And Sorey didn’t know why—perhaps it was the lingering image of stained glass and open hymnals that wouldn’t yet disappear—but for some reason, as he crossed the floor to her, Sorey felt as if he were treading on holy ground.

Lailah’s melody never ended as he approached. Carefully, he sat beside her and watched her expression as her eyes followed her own hands. And then, as she continued playing, he could hear her softly greet with her ever-present smile, “Hello, Sorey.”

Sorey’s eyes darted up to Lailah’s eyes. Immediately, he bowed his head back down, fingers tightening in his black sweatpants. “Hi,” he said back, feeling inexplicably small.

Lailah’s aquamarine eyes glanced to him. Her smile softened and she looked back to her hands as one crossed over the other to jump an octave higher. “How are you?” she asked.

Sorey swallowed. “I’m better,” he said honestly. His words felt strangely unimportant as they came from him; they weren’t what he really wanted to talk about. He supposed it was a good enough start. “They’ve given me clearance to begin training again the day after tomorrow.” _The day after Mikleo will be required to leave and go back home._ He looked up to her again, eyes following the line of her profile. “And you?”

Lailah released a tension he hadn’t been aware was in her form; she relaxed. Her shoulders dropped. She played the piano with more legato. “I’m well, thank you,” she said, smiling better.

Sorey nodded, but something in him doubted her words. It was hard to tell. Her face was hard to read, as it always was:  smiling, so cheery, and warm. But he _had_ drifted with her, however briefly. He knew her inside and out, now. He had seen into the deepest part of her and he knew what lay there and he knew now, for certain, that all of Lailah’s smiles and all of Lailah’s kindness and caring was not born from peace. Or sometimes even something genuine.

He swallowed and watched his friend a moment more.

Courage made him strong.

“Are you really, though?” he asked her quietly, lowly; he subdued his voice for her delicately. In a way that he hoped communicated that he cared. As much as she had always cared for him since he arrived at this base, he cared for _her._

There was an odd gap in the melody.

Lailah hurriedly pressed into the keys again, continuing her song. She didn’t answer right away to the question. So Sorey took the opportunity to tilt his head and add, just as softly, “I mean, you don’t have to say anything, because I guess I kinda get it, now. It’s not really easy to talk about it. But…”

Lailah very carefully kept her face from view. It occurred to Sorey a moment later, after she had bowed her chin, that she was very purposefully not looking at him. Suddenly, her music took all of her focus and attention to perform. Was that intentional? Or was she just still trying so very hard to not be seen?

He didn’t know how to tell her that it was too late for that last one.

“If you’re afraid that you hurt me, or are the reason I got sick, you don’t have to be,” Sorey continued. As he spoke, he could feel the tension in his own form ease. He grew braver with every word. “Nothing you are or were could have done that to me. _You_ aren’t what made the drift fall apart, Lailah. Not your memories, and not you. _Never_ you. Okay?”

It took Sorey a moment to realize that the room had gotten quieter since he started talking. Lailah’s hands hovered in suspension over the keys, her entire form frozen. Sometime between the moment when he first asked if she was _really_ okay and the moment between them now in soft silence, her playing had drifted to a stop.

He waited a beat more before he added softly, “And for the record, I would like to try again.”

Everything was still for one, long moment.

Then—

“Thank you, Sorey.”

Though she still didn’t look to him, there was something vulnerable in Lailah’s face. Her hands, once idle, slowly fell to her lap. Slender fingers wove together, perhaps still attempting to hold together her composure as best as she could. If Sorey looked closely, he could see her fingertips were burning white from how tightly they were pressing against one another.

Sorey gentled. He smiled a little and looked to his co-pilot again. “You’re…really brave, you know that?”

And strong.

He knew that, now.

To be longing for a family for so long, after having none. To have lost her best friend—her everything, the only person who had ever _been_ family to her—to a kaiju before carrying on the fight and neural load of a Jaeger _by herself._ To be forced, a few short months later, to take up a young stranger as her new partner—as if her loss didn’t mean anything, as if she was just replacing him who had meant so much—to do all that with a _smile_. To do all that without complaint.

It was just the beginning of the picture that was Lailah, he knew. Just the skeleton. But Sorey was just now beginning to put the pieces together in a way he was sure very few others would be able to do.

He considered himself honored to have that privilege.

“Sorey,” Lailah said quietly, almost chidingly. Her voice was slightly muffled by a tight throat.

Sorey’s smile only widened. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”

But to his great relief, that made Lailah giggle, if a little wetly. She bowed her head and delicately wiped at her face. Now that she was smiling, Sorey began to ease.

Lailah looked to him. “You have very beautiful memories, too, Sorey,” she said softly.

Sorey blinked. His smile turned into a sudden blush, unsure what to do or say to that. “I—uh—thank you?”

Lailah giggled again. It was a beautiful sound.

Sorey scratched the back of his head, but he smiled. If it was making Lailah feel better, he was happy for it.

“Sorey?”

“Hm?”

“Can I…” Lailah bit her lip, something terribly soft and open in her face. Perhaps they didn’t need the drift to see each other for who they were. She bowed her head, smiling. “…I would like to play you a song, I think.”

Sorey blinked again. Warmth blossomed in his chest, fond and soft. He nodded.

Lailah turned her smile to him, and then turned back to her keys. “But…” she began, “…well.” She looked to Sorey, amusement and fondness in her eyes. They colored her eyes a shimmering aquamarine. “I think you may recognize this one, now.”

Oh.

As she started playing, sure enough, Sorey did.

The melody began soft and delicate and Sorey could feel his heart relax in time with hers. It was a song that wasn’t his own, but purely Lailah’s. From her old scarlet choir dresses and her ever-open arms, from the brass pedals beneath her feet that she used to press as she listened to the echo of a single note reverberate throughout an empty church, from tall sanctuaries that had once been her home.

Sorey bent his head into hers, leaning it against her shoulder. He breathed in the smell of strawberries and Lailah, and he remembered the words from her own memory sing along.

_Just as I am  
Without one plea…_

* * *

 

“Now that you know how to get here, you _have_ to come by more often.”

Sorey stood in front of Mikleo, smiling, his hands on his hips as he looked at his childhood friend. They were just outside of the base—still within view of the security guards, but far enough away that they could have their privacy before Mikleo hopped into the car Kyme and Mason had brought.

Mikleo just chuckled and shook his head. “Next time I come here, Sorey, I’m hoping to not have to leave,” he pointed out quietly, like a reminder.

Sorey brightened. His heart picked up with hope. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mikleo nodded. His smile was softer; sadder, perhaps. His eyes turned to look at the towering height of the Lakehaven base. “I’m thinking even if I don’t get into the Jaeger program right away, at least I could get a job as part of a crew. There’s surely _something_ I could do to help instead of just sit around all day.”

For some reason, that made Sorey soften as he watched the other young man. “That’s not entirely bad either, y’know,” he said to him.

Mikleo scoffed, rolling his amethyst eyes. “Well, when you know your best friend is out risking his life just to _train_ to also risk his life to save the world every day, it kind of is.” Then, head still tilted towards the base, chin up, those eyes slid to Sorey’s. His smile widened. “We got to take advantage of when we can make our own choices for ourselves, right?” The opportunities came so few and far in between.

Sorey didn’t know what to say to that. He shrugged, giving a hopeful smile back. “Yeah, I guess.”

A strange look came to Mikleo’s eye—one that said he was watching him carefully. It was a look that knew him too well. Then the pale-haired youth straightened up and held out his hand. “Well. See you soon, Sorey.”

Sorey took one look at the extended hand and he shook his head. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Mikleo again, bringing him to his chest. “I hope it’s sooner than last time,” he confessed honestly, quietly.

Mikleo stiffened for a brief moment in his arms. Then the tension slid out and away. Sorey could feel his slender arms encircle him back; he smiled into a teal-jacketed shoulder.

“Next time, it’ll be for good,” Mikleo murmured to him and Sorey gave him a gentle squeeze in return.

Mikleo looked out to Sorey through the back of a truck as he left, his hand pressed to the glass as the other watched him leave.

 

* * *

 

True to Rose’s claim and Sorey’s reassurance, it was not Lailah or her memories that had been the cause of the failed drift. The real reason they misaligned had been Sorey’s youth; the studies and data that the scientists had gathered all pointed to the reality that Sorey was too young to drift. His brain, still forming, was not ready to take on the neural load and capacity of a Jaeger—simulation or real.

At least, not yet, came the statement from the higher ups. At least, not with the current equipment and technology.

Thought it took time for the scientists at the base to develop, Sorey was soon introduced to new gear and a new helmet that was supposed to alleviate some of the stress his brain would be put under in a drift. Armitization would be permissible, doable, even at the tender age of seventeen.

It made few people happy, but Sorey tried his new equipment out.

They worked with great success.

The next time Lailah and Sorey drifted, a little over a month since their first attempt, not a thing went wrong. Sorey opened his eyes with perfect armitization with Lailah and the together, the two took down their first simulated kaiju.

It was exhilarating; it was terrifying. It was so many things at once, Sorey couldn’t even begin to describe the experience to Mikleo later that evening in the solace of his bedroom with his phone cradled next to his ear. He tried to anyway.

Soon after their first successful run, drop simulations began to be a part of their weekly schedule. But as Sorey and Lailah became better and better at taking down the simulated kaijus that were brought before them, the overseers began to demand for more frequent practice runs. Sorey noticed that overtime, drop simulations went from weekly attempts, to every other day, to daily.

“It’s almost like they’re preparing you for something,” Mikleo said quietly over the phone one evening.

“What?”

“Oh—nothing,” Mikleo quickly said. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Sorey did.

That night, as he stared at the ceiling of his room in the darkness of night, he began to wonder just how much the overseers of the Jaeger program knew about what was going on. With the kaiju—with _him_ and his unique ability to armatize with anyone—with…with the world. How much did the overseers know, and yet not tell anyone about? How much did they keep secret? How much where they in control of, like his very own life, it seemed?

It was a strange line of thought he hadn’t considered before.

But they also brought questions Sorey wasn’t sure he wanted to find the answers to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to update! This week was super busy for me. @n@ Forgive me. I will do my best to get back on my update-every-other-day schedule I set for myself. 
> 
> The good news is, this is most likely do-able, since the next chapter is mostly already pre-written (another one of those I wrote earlier before I went back to write all the filler stuff--which is, in hindsight, the entire reason this story keeps stretching on for far longer than I keep intending it too; woop).


	5. coeur

A month later, Lailah giggled as she led Sorey down the walkways of the base. She never once let go of his hands, guiding him both up and down stairs and across pathways in a maze that Sorey couldn’t hope to try and remember.

He did peek open an eye to try and catch a glimpse of where they were, but instantly Lailah gasped and scolded around a smile, “Sorey! No peeking!”

The young man laughed and shut his eyes again, more tightly this time. Lailah tightened her hold on his hands and he let himself be pulled forward. “All right! All right,” he murmured. Gosh, but curiosity _ate_ at him. “Can’t you at least give me a _little_ hint as to where we’re going?”

“Nope! It’s a secret!” Lailah hushed cutely.

Sorey shook his head and huffed. How unfair.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too much longer for them to reach their destination. Lailah pushed Sorey forward from his back until his gut bumped into steel railings. His hands latched onto the upper rail, wanting so desperately to open his eyes. Where were they? Where had she taken him to? A viewing platform? He could hear the hiss and steam of machinery all around them, echoing. That had to mean they were standing at a position they could overlook something, right?

“Okay!” Lailah finally said as she hopped to his side. He could hear the bright smile in her voice, enthusiastic as ever. “Now— _open_!”

Sorey did, and when the first thing that met his eye was a towering figure of metal, he gasped.

Immediately, his eyes jumped up, following the curve of a red and white arm to a heavily armored shoulder. A helmet, then a cockpit right at the clavicle. Heavy black glass covered the pilot chamber, sitting on top of a broad chest that belonged to a giant, covered in plates of deep red and black, as well as gold and white which draped from the shoulders.

It was huge. It was magnificent.

It was, perhaps, the most beautiful Jaeger he had ever seen.

Sorey felt breathless just staring at it. But it took just one look to know exactly what it was and why Lailah had taken him here. He looked to his co-pilot and he smiled. She smiled back.

He raised an eyebrow. “This…this isn’t…is it?”

They had spent enough time in each other’s heads that he didn’t need to finish the question. Lailah nodded excitedly, her eyes happy. She clasped her hands together. “Yes! It is! It’s ours! It’s our _Jaeger,_ Sorey! They’re finally finished with it!”

Sorey looked back to the giant fighting machine, not quite sure what to say. His mouth was dry. “I…”

“Isn’t it _amazing_?!” Lailah enthused and she launched forward to wrap her arms around her co-pilot, laughing.

Sorey laughed, an echo of her own feelings. He put a hand on her back to steady her, all the while never able to take his large green eyes off of the Jaeger. Their Jaeger. _Their_ Jaeger. “So it’s—it’s new, then?” he found himself asking, head turning to his co-pilot as she released him and giggled. “It’s not…?”

Lailah nodded, and all at once, her joy made sense. “It’s a different Jaeger than the one I had.” Than the one she had lost Michael in. Than the one she had been so hurt in.

It was a mercy she clearly hadn’t been expecting them to give her.

Sorey smiled brightly. “Then we should give it a good new name,” he told her, emboldened. “One for good luck.”

“Oh!” Lailah pressed her hands to her cheeks, eyes wide. “You’re right, Sorey! And we have to think of a really fun name to say, too; one that all of the news channels will like!” She giggled.

Her brunet co-pilot chuckled, turning to look back at their Jaeger with a soft of wistful gaze. He propped up his forearms on the railing overlooking the abyss where their Jaeger stood, mighty and silent and still. He crossed his arms, hands hanging limply over the edge. Lailah put her hands on the railing beside him, poised in the thoughtful quiet that overtook them both.

Sorey chewed the inside of his cheek.

A good name…

“Fethmus Mioma.”

Lailah blinked and looked down to her co-pilot. She watched him for a moment, unsure what it was he had even said. She tilted her head. “Fethmus Mioma…?”

Sorey just grinned and straightened up. His hands gripped the railing a bit tighter as he stepped up onto the lower rung, putting himself almost on equal height as his co-pilot. “Fethmus Mioma,” he confirmed, his head still tilted back to look up at the height of their Jaeger. “It means ‘Lailah the pure’ in the old tongue.” He turned to look at her; his grin widened. “Think it’ll fit?”

Lailah flushed, stunned. After a moment of pause, she looked down at her own hands on the bar that kept them from falling into the very same track where giants walked.

She smiled, and shook her head to herself. “I suppose I should be surprised that you even know the old tongue, but…I’ve seen your books.” Littered as they were right now all over the floor of their apartment, some open and others closed—all scattered about in a clustered heap.

At the reminder of his mess he had yet to clean, Sorey flushed. Lailah only softly laughed. She looked to her co-pilot and nodded. “I like it. Fethmus Mioma it is, then,” she said.

Sorey felt a smile stretch onto his face.

It would be a new start and a new adventure—for the both of them.

 

* * *

 

Sorey had been sleeping when the alarm went off. He had known peace just as normal, just as it usually was, before everything was shattered by red blares of danger. He scrambled from his bed, legs getting caught in his blanket before he shook himself free.

Lailah burst open his bedroom door, with her pajamas askew and hair wild. She had a faint pink imprint on her cheek, left over from where her face had been pressed into her pillow in sleep. Her face was pale, but the line of her jaw was set. Her brows were furrowed.

She didn’t even need to say it as their eyes met. He knew.

There was a kaiju.

A _real_ kaiju.

It was as if a switch had been pressed in the back of his mind. Immediately, Sorey sprang into motion and darted forward. Lailah moved out of his way. Together, the two ran out of their apartment and into the hallway. Other base workers were already running everywhere they could, shouting over one another and the alarm system above them.

Sorey had no time to be embarrassed about being seen in his pajamas outside of his and Lailah’s quarters. His partner was already waving him on down the hallway, urging him to follow her with a shout of, “Hurry, Sorey!” so he did.

The metal hallways clanged underneath his socked feet. By the time they reached their changing rooms, he was breathless.

His hands fumbled with the knob on his locker. Dezel was already there beside him, suiting up. The broad-shouldered man gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement upon hearing his arrival. Sorey looked up at him for a moment and nodded back, though he supposed the motion was useless.

This was happening. They were really going to fight a kaiju.

This time, Sorey didn’t have any assistants. When it came time to zip and clasp the back of his suit, Dezel muttered for him to turn around, so he let the older man do the rest of his dressing. Then he turned to complete the same courtesy for him.

They were off immediately afterwards.

Helmet in hand, Sorey wasted no time rejoining Lailah. Ahead of them, Rose stood in her suit of dark pink, black, and grey. She looked older in her armor, somehow; stronger. When Dezel appeared at her side, she turned to Sorey with a grin.

“You ready for this?” Rose asked with her helmet on her hip. She tilted her head at him. “No simulation this time. Just real kaiju blood and teeth.”

Sorey nodded without missing a beat. “If it’ll protect everyone, I’m ready for anything.”

Something about what he said made her soften. “I had a feeling you’d say that,” Rose murmured.

The door to the right hissed open and in walked Alisha with a handful of other officers. They rushed to their stations around the princess as her boots clacked against the flooring at a brisk pace.

All at once, the four of the pilots straightened as their overseer barked out her orders, “All men, to their stations!”

The blonde turned to the four suited before her and pointed at the first two. “We have a Category 3 kaiju here, ladies and gentlemen. Dezel and Rose—we need you two suited up in Scattered Bones. Front and center. You two will be taking on the brunt of the kaiju. Sorey and Lailah, you’ll remain as back up in Fethmus Mioma. We need you ready to go, but beside the base.”

Sorey nodded to Alisha and Lailah did the same. Immediately, without question, they moved, as did Rose and Dezel, the two teams splitting up as they raced to their loading docks.

Sorey followed Lailah down the stairs and across the runway that would lead to their Jaeger. Rounding the corner and darting up another set allowed him to catch a glimpse of her:  the Fethmus Mioma. His heart jumped into his throat. He held his helmet tighter to his side.

This was it, then.

The loading dock was full of swarming workers, all waiting for them and preparing for their launch. Lailah moved with fluid grace through the throng, and Sorey struggled to keep up, mimicking her motions as she slid her helmet on, letting the piece clasp onto the rest of the suit. Sorey did the same with his own helmet, slipping it on over his head just as they reached the dock way.

The door to Fethmus Mioma’s cockpit hissed open, sliding to the side with a wisp of steam. Sorey followed in at Lailah’s heels.

When Lailah stopped in front of her left side controls, he jogged around her to the right. It took just a glance at her to see that she wasn’t wishing to waste time with semantics. Lailah met his eyes once, nodded, and then stepped into position; Sorey followed suit, nearly stomping his boots into the clamps with his haste.

The cords came from behind, locking into place on his helmet and back. Sorey made sure to exhale as he took hold of the handles before him. He kept his breathing steady.

There was a buzz over the communications relay. He could hear Alisha’s voice once more, clear and firm, over the line. “Sorey, Lailah. We’re about to begin the neural handshake. Are the both of you ready?”

Sorey could see the dip of Lailah’s helmet in a nod out of the corner of his eye. He muttered, nodding in echo, “Yes. We’re ready, Alisha.” He flexed his hands and tightened his grasp on his controls.

“Affirmative,” the princess said back. There was a brief pause, and then she muttered, “All right, then. Fethmus Mioma neural handshake to begin in three, two, one…”

Sorey’s eyes snapped shut as the now-familiar rush took over. He gasped; the point at which he began and Lailah ended blurring. Instantaneously, memory upon memory flew by through unfiltered lens.

_Faces lit by flashlight underneath the blanket of night; hushed voices whispering words held sacred from a book open before them. Wouldn’t Gramps just_ crown _them when he found out they were still awake at this hour_ —

— **she used to follow the cracks in the stone with her fingers; tried to feel the age and history of the shrinechurch as if she could learn it by touch alone—**

**—** _the blue of the sky and open fields—_

_—_ **the ivory of keys and faded hymnals—**

**—** _a hand always in my own._

[ **I always wanted a hand to hold.]**

_Then hold mine._

They began to intertwine.

Sorey could fill himself beginning to rush in to fill the missing spaces of Lailah—and Lailah doing the same unto him—until there was no space left to hide. There was nothing left for each other to keep to themselves. Nothing left to stow in sanctuary; they _were_ each other’s sanctuary, here in this moment, unto themselves.

And when Lailah opened her eyes, Sorey did, too.

It was exhilarating.

Sorey felt a smile spread onto his face, the effervescent _joy_ radiating between them at the crystal-clear vision and harmony between their souls lighting up something deep within. He felt like a fire, an ever-roaring flame.

They could take on the _world._

“Fethmus Mioma is armatized!” he shouted with pride, and his eyes darted to Lailah as Lailah looked to him. Her smile was _radiant._

Alisha sounded relieved on the other end. “Affirmative. Good work, you guys.”

Sorey couldn’t stop grinning.

Their Jaeger moved forward. Like they had practiced in all of their drop simulations before, Sorey and Lailah went through the routine of getting Fethmus Mioma attached to the cords drifting from helicopters spinning above them. Then, they braced themselves before their entire weight was lifted up and pulled away from the launch bay of the base.

For a moment, it felt like flying. He could see Scattered Bones pulled further away than they were, out towards where it was the kaiju must have been. But their air time was short; before long, Sorey and Lailah reached their position close and beside the base. They hovered just for a moment above the water before they were released.

The cords dropped away. Weightless, their Jaeger fell into the water. Sorey and Lailah could feel the tremor in their legs as they hit the ocean floor. Then, balance steady, they together straightened up.

“Fethmus Mioma is ready!” Lailah announced, her back as straight with pride.

Alisha breathed in relief on the other end. “Good. Standby, you two.”

Sorey nodded and flexed his hands on his controls. He swallowed. Continually, Lailah sent reassurances over to him as they watched Dezel and Rose be dropped and get ready near the approximate location of the approaching kaiju.

He sent back equal peals of comfort as well. No matter how Lailah tried to hold herself, he could tell she was nervous, too. Echoes of what happened last time she was in a Jaeger fighting a kaiju kept playing on repeat in the back of their minds. Sorey just shook his head at the images as stubbornly and firmly as he could.

_It’ll be okay, Lailah,_ he pushed to her. _That’s not gonna happen. Not again, and not this time._

Lailah sighed softly. Sorey could feel the exhale as if it was from his own lungs. [I know. Thank you, Sorey.]

But still her nervousness remained.

Then, Scattered Bones moved.

Sorey’s eyes snapped up to watch as the brown body of Rose and Dezel’s Jaeger stepped to the side quickly, its stance widening. His breath caught in his throat.

“Scattered Bones has sight of the kaiju! Repeat—the kaiju is located!” Rose cried over the relay, just before the world erupted with water.

As the beast vaulted upward from the ocean, Sorey realized it was the first kaiju he had ever seen with his own two eyes.

It was blue-green, reptilian. Large and long, like a cross between a hammerhead shark and a crocodile. Its maw was the length of their Jaeger arm, Sorey could almost swear, eyes widening as he saw that gigantic jaw open up and then snap down lightning-fast on Rose and Dezel’s arm. 

Immediately, Scattered Bones moved again, raising a fist to smash at the side of the beast’s head. There was a cry over the radio—Sorey couldn’t tell from who—and then the beast snarled and fell away, back into the ocean below. It slipped out of sight for a moment before it made another charge, mouth open again. This time, it latched onto the mask of the Jaeger’s face. Its feet and arms scrabbled for purchase on their bulky armored shoulders with little success.

There was a brief moment of a buzz, and then Rose gritted out, “We are engaged! This son of a bitch—we’ve got it engaged, Alisha! Do you copy?”

“Affirmative!” Alisha said, and she sounded as breathless as Sorey felt. His chest squeezed tight with fear. “Be careful, Scattered Bones!”

“Aye-aye!” Rose retorted. Sorey saw the Jaeger give a minute mock-salute with its hand before it grabbed the kaiju by the horns on the side of its head and tossed it to the side, launching it away and back into the ocean once more.

The kaiju writhed for a moment after landing on its back, water splashing around it violently until it got in control of itself again and dived beneath the surface. Rose swore over the radio, and the Jaeger gave a brief shake of its hand; Sorey noticed that a wire was now dangling from their wrist—a weapon he recognized from the simulation drop he had watched the two perform.  It was a thick, unbreakable cord with spikes along the end. Sorey had seen them even emit electricity down it to shock the kaiju they had been fighting in the practice.

This time, when the kaiju appeared again, Scattered Bones was ready.

Rearing its head and roaring, the kaiju jumped for the Jaeger’s thigh. Once again clamping on, Sorey’s heart leapt into his throat as he watched the kaiju’s momentum almost push Scattered Bones over.

“Rose! Dezel!” Lailah cried, alarm spreading over their connection at the dangerous stumble the Jaeger gave.

They needn’t have worried.

In the next moment, Rose and Dezel threw their cord around the kaiju’s neck, pulling and yanking until the beast began to choke. Frantically, it let go of Scattered Bones’ thigh, flailing and sloshing as it tried to its regain air with little success.

The kaiju’s tail flew left and right, trying to dislodge and unbalance its captor, but Scattered Bones dug had dug their feet into the ocean floor as best they could for this tug of war. They held, relentless and unyielding as the beast gagged and snapped uselessly. It pulled and pulled on the cord, claws scraping and reaching for something—anything—to give it just the smallest bit of mercy.

Then, after an achingly long pause, the beast began to slow. It stilled.

Finally, it slumped to the ocean beneath them.

Rose and Dezel waited for a moment more to ensure the creature was dead before they disengaged the cord. After another beat of caution spent watching the water where the beast had fallen, they turned around.

There was pride in Rose’s voice as she announced, “This is Rose from the Scattered Bones. Calling in to confirm that the kaiju is dead—repeat, the kaiju has been terminated!”

Alisha breathed out over the radio, her relief palpable. “Good. Glad to hear that, Scattered Bones.” There was a brief pause before she added, “Congratulations, teams. Both Jaegers now have clearance to return to the base. Excellent work, all of you. There will be a debriefing in the conference room soon after you get back. Alisha over and out.”

Sorey released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding; he could feel the motion echoed by Lailah. 

So that was it, then. Just like that, the battle was over.

[Well, it was just a Category 3,] Lailah hummed to him over their connection. [We have been training for Category 4’s in our simulation drops, you know.]

Sorey hummed back in harmony with her. He supposed he hadn’t been paying attention; though now he decided he would try to from now on. They watched as Scattered Bones began to make the long trek back in the direction of the base, victory singing quietly in their weary bones.

It happened so fast.

One moment, Scattered Bones was walking towards them.

The next, the giant, screaming and bruised kaiju from before had jumped on top of it, shoving Rose and Dezel into the water underneath. Claws scratched; the kaiju hissed and tore at the back of their Jaeger with a wild ferocity that looked like it was trying to dig through their back.

It was _angry._

Sorey and Lailah jerked.

“Rose! Dezel!” Sorey screamed.

He hurriedly threw his fist out. Lailah cried, “Wait!” at the same instant that the beast jumped away from Scattered Bones and back into the ocean.

Sorey almost couldn’t breathe—the panic he could feel inside of Lailah—the fear he felt for Rose and Dezel and if they were _okay_ —the sudden unidentifiable location of the kaiju—everything built up a pressure in his chest that it hard to get enough air. His helmet began to get stuffy.

_Where is it? Where is it? Can you see it, Lailah? Where is it?!_

[I—]

Lailah cut herself off as soon as she saw the back of the kaiju break the surface of the water, gliding through like a whale. She pointed to it with her hand, the Jaeger arm extending in the beast’s direction.

“Sorey, it’s coming this way!” she warned him with a shout.

Instantly, like habit, the two braced themselves; they widened their stance in complete synchronization. Their training had made the motion simple, expected. Their arms flexed at their sides.

“The base! We have to get it away from the base!” Lailah added.

“Got it!” Sorey called back.

So they pushed themselves into a run, jogging forward, every step weighted by the immense bulk of the Jaeger. The water parted under their feet.

When Sorey would look back on this moment, he would remember most how he didn’t even have time to be afraid.

The young man pulled his arm forward, his gripped trigger on the control turning his hand into a canon. When the shifts were complete, he took time to aim carefully, as best he could while they were running. His sights on the kaiju, he gritted his teeth and fired. Both Lailah and he could feel the recoil in their Jaeger after the laser burst.

It was a surefire hit.

The kaiju, enraged, roared out after the blast knocked the side of its horned head. Sharply, it spun around, teeth pulled back in an earth-tremoring scream. Sorey could swear he felt the entire world shake.

“Here we go…!” he cried as the kaiju dived back into the water, straight for them.

Lailah sent a wave of reassurance and courage over their link. Sorey swallowed and fed off of it, pushing them just that little bit further than they needed to go to get a good enough distance away from the base. As they dug in their feet to the shallow ocean floor to make their stand, Sorey put away the canon on his arm and brought out his and Lailah’s iconic weapon in Fethmus Mioma, just like Scattered Bones’ whips:  a flaming sword.

He had just barely unsheathed it from within the compartments of his arm when the kaiju was on them.

One moment Sorey was watching the kaiju’s back as it broke the surface of the ocean. The next, he and Lailah were reeling backwards as the kaiju’s teeth scratched at their head, hands and legs clawing for purchase on the rest of the Jaeger’s body. He cried out in surprise.

“Sorey! The sword!” Lailah shouted, as she shoved her left arm in between the kaiju’s body and their chest. With strength that amazed Sorey, because he could _feel_ the weight of the beast and its frantic clawing against their arm, she then threw the arm up and into the creature’s snarling face.

Sorey could feel the teeth of the kaiju break under their metal. He nodded and swung their geared sword forward, piercing the beast’s shoulder.

The kaiju screamed, writhed, and tore away. Back into the water it jumped, nearly splashing them over with the force of the wave. Lailah and Sorey stumbled back for a step. Sorey could feel the same instinct in Lailah to bend their right leg, to dig it into the ground to steady themselves.

Then, the sea calmed and they could see nothing. Just the rippling water and the lights from the base a few miles away.

Sorey and Lailah could feel it the moment the kaiju latched onto their leg—Lailah’s leg—and pulled it out from underneath them.

Down they spilled into the water, the change sudden and sharp. The movement was disorienting, the ground quite literally out from under them. Sorey could feel them fall back against the cords and mechanics that kept the two of them still standing. His feet screamed, still clamped so tightly into their metal hold, even as his body fell back.

His calf echoed with the pain that Lailah was surely feeling on her end, more genuine than his own.

Her scream proved it.

“Lailah!” he shouted, and he quickly raised the sword in an arc over them, the flames lost from the dampening of water. The blade dug in to the same side of the kaiju as before, below its arm.

Once again, the beast screamed and writhed. Water sloshed in all around them, spilling into their compartment. Sparks flew.

The kaiju swatted at the sword and turned to grab the extended weapon in its maw. Frantically, with teeth clamped down, trying to dig into the metal, it twisted and turned to try to shake the sword loose. Sorey could feel it pulling and tugging as if it were on his own arm. He gritted his teeth, and did his best not to scream.

[Sorey! I’ve got you!]

With her leg still ringing with pain, Sorey could feel Lailah’s push as she shoved them into sitting upright. He followed suit to give her strength. Then, at the apex of their rise, Lailah curled her hand into a fist—Sorey’s own echoed it—and together, in one fluid motion, they rammed Fethmus Mioma’s fist into the side of the kaiju’s head.

Blue blood flew, and Sorey could feel the teeth release the sword.

[Now, Sorey!]

He didn’t need to be told twice. In the brief second they had as the kaiju was falling back and shaking its head from Lailah’s hit, he threw a foot under them, digging their toes into the ocean floor to give them leverage as he thrust their blade forward and upward and into the beast’s throat.

The stab was clean, it was quick.

Sorey watched as the beast’s eye widened momentarily. Its body gave a violent twitch and a wet gurgle of a dying cry.

Then it grew still.

The abdomen and tail of the kaiju slumped into the ocean, the blue of its blood spilling into the waters beneath. It sagged lifelessly and hung from their sword like a heavy flag.

Sorey stared at the carcass with shock, half-expecting the beast to jerk to life again like it had before. But it didn’t; the longer he stared, the more the kaiju continued to remain lifeless. Limp. Dead.

After a brief moment of revulsion, Sorey and Lailah yanked their blade from the carcass of the beast. Together, they watched it slip into the water for good.

Then, there was silence for a beat.

Sorey stared at where the kaiju had disappeared for a long moment, before he could feel Lailah jerk in remembrance. She started as they both recalled the same memory—what had just happened right before they engaged the kaiju; what they had seen the beast do to their own two friends—and just like that, Sorey and Lailah lifted themselves fully to their feet. They brought Fethmus Mioma upright, stabilizing their balance as they stood.

Sorey called out, “Rose! Dezel! Are you two—“

“We’re fine,” came Rose’s gruff, tired response over the radio.

Sorey felt all the tension drain out of him and Lailah. The two of them turned to where Scattered Bones had fallen just in time to see the Jaeger up and walking now, albeit more slowly than before. More carefully.

He exhaled in relief. Lailah asked, “You two aren’t hurt, are you?”

There was something amused in Rose’s voice, as tired and achy as it was. “Ugh, who even _cares_?” she retorted with a rough laugh. “I don’t know if you guys noticed, but you just took down a damn _kaiju._ As far as I’m concerned, I’m right as rain.”

Sorey supposed that was one way to look at it. He smiled breathlessly. He looked to Lailah and Lailah looked back, breathing in the silence.

“Yeah,” he said over the radio. He could feel the warmth build up in his chest again:  excitement and joy and amazement and pride all in one. Just like learning how to drift. “Yeah, I guess we did.”

_And no one died,_ he couldn’t help but think in relief.

[And no one died,] Lailah agreed.

There was no mistaking the relief Sorey could feel from her end. He blinked slow and let it wash over him like the ocean lapping at their knees.

 

* * *

 

The walk back to the base was filled with noise. Celebration, partying, cheers and applause.

It was so loud, Sorey wasn’t sure what to think of it. It was like a constant roar all around him. Even when he pulled his helmet off, sweaty hair matted to his face as he smiled breathlessly at Lailah on the other side of the cockpit, he swore he could still hear the noise through the bolted door, even with the radio turned off.

When they exited the cockpit, helmets under their arms, they were loudly welcomed into the throng of people waiting for them. There was applause and boisterous cheer for their success against their first real kaiju kill, and Sorey wasn’t sure if he found the crowd overwhelming or just the right kind of appreciative for the great feat they had just done.

On the one hand, the celebration was wonderful. It was fun. It made him feel special and loved, and it was so _good_ after the rush of battle to delight in their victory with such reckless abandon.

But at the same time, Sorey felt so tired. He was ready to sleep for a millennia after that fight.

Besides.

Sorey couldn’t help but think there was a different way he wanted to spend the evening after his victory.

So after the debriefing and just as the party in the base was under way—single-handedly lead and organized by one very-bandaged-up Rose and an, as always, disgruntled and bruised Dezel—Sorey found himself slipping away from the music and the lights and the food, and to the nearest stairway.

 

* * *

 

The phone rang by his ear; as usual, it only trilled once.

“Sorey!”

Sorey couldn’t stop the grin that stretched wide onto his face as soon as he heard that voice. He leaned back against the deck, placing his free hand on its smooth surface to keep himself sitting up. His eyes turned to the sky. “Hey, Mikleo.”

“Sorey, you did it!” Mikleo’s voice was exuberant, breathless. He wished he could see his face; he wondered what he looked like. Was he happy? Excited? Scared? “I saw it—we all did! You killed a kaiju!”

Sorey laughed a little. He sat up so he could scratch at his cheek with his finger, legs kicking out over the great expanse that was the sea off of the Lakehaven Heights coast. The water was painted with gorgeous, soft hues of pinks, golds, and purples from the setting sun. It was the perfect evening sunset. “So you guys were watching, huh?”

“ _Duh_!” Mikleo burst. He laughed a little, and it was music to Sorey’s ears. He smiled, face reddening. He wished he could make him laugh like that forever. “It was breaking news coverage on almost every channel—and it was _amazing_! _You_ were amazing, Sorey!”

Now it was Sorey’s turn to laugh, pleased and warm.

_Yeah,_ he couldn’t help but think. _This is exactly where I want to be tonight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here have a kaiju finally (ノ・w・)ノ


	6. mon

After the kaiju attack, life at the base began to stabilize in its normal fashion again in the following few weeks. There were, however, a few differences from before.

More people knew Sorey’s name. Or rather, those who used to call him “Shepherd” now actually call him “Sorey.” It was a nice change. More people also wanted to talk to him than before, which was fun at first, because Sorey didn’t mind feeling like a celebrity. But it began to grow old when he found he couldn’t even make the trek from the weight room to the latrine without someone trying to start up a conversation with him.

Yet, perhaps the biggest change of all was Dezel’s behavior.

Rose was the first to bring it up at their lunch table, after Dezel had left early without a word or reason to the others. Back hunched, she looked to Sorey and Lailah across from her with big, concerned blue eyes. The dangling strings from her black jacket almost touched her mashed potatoes. “Have either of you guys noticed how Dezel’s been acting?”

Sorey looked to Rose, his fork stuck in his mouth. He didn’t know what to say; he shook his head.

Lailah tilted her head to the side, frowning softly. “Should we have?”

Rose puffed with her lips with a wild blow of air. She leaned back. “Uh, _yeah._ He’s been all mopey and quiet all of a sudden. I mean, I know he doesn’t say _much,_ but he usually says a _lot more_ than he’s been saying in like, the past week.”

Sorey frowned as well. He pulled the fork from his mouth. “Do you have any idea why?”

“No.” The redhead sighed and sagged against the table. She propped her elbows up and rested her cheek in the palm of her hand. “That’s kind of why I’m asking. Something is _bothering_ him, I think, and I know he won’t let me drift with him to figure out what.”

Sorey took another careful, slow bite of his vegetables.

Lailah smiled, patient and gentle. “Rose, you two have been drift partners for a very long time. He won’t keep anything secret from you; maybe you just need to wait until he’s ready to talk about it.”

“Whatever it is,” Rose mumbled and she picked up her spoon to move around her potatoes on her tray. She sighed. “Gosh, I hope you’re right, Lailah.”

At seeing how worried Rose was, Sorey nodded. He found himself hoping, too.

For both of their sakes.

* * *

 

That night, Sorey woke to heavy knocking on his apartment door.

He jerked at first, heart beating fast as if he had heard the kaiju alarms again. But when no red flashed, and all he could hear was an insistent _thump, thump, thump,_ from far away, he frowned and pushed himself out of bed.

Lailah wasn’t awake yet. Sorey emerged from his bedroom. His room was closer to their front door than hers; perhaps she just hadn’t heard the knocking yet. Or maybe she couldn’t.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Sorey turned to the front door beyond their kitchen and living room space. It was dark with the lights off, and hard to see the pathway to the door in between all his scattered history and architecture books on the floor.

Lailah was right. He needed to clean up.

_Thump, thump, thump._

“I’m coming…!” Sorey called as loudly as he dared without wanting to wake his drift partner. He padded forward and with sleep-numb fingers, he undid the locks.

Opening the door met him with Dezel’s face, grim, frowning, and with his hand still raised in a fist as if the man intended to knock again. When the door fell away, he let it drop back to his side. He bobbed his head once in a nod; his chin-length hair swung.

He grunted in greeting. “Sorey.”

Sorey blinked up at the man. “Uh…Dezel?”

Dezel nodded at something that Sorey wasn’t sure about, and then turned to walk down the hall. Sorey pulled after him, startled. He leaned out of his doorway, watching the taller man’s broad back as he moved. “Hey…!” he called.

“Follow me,” came the gruff answer. Simple. Curt.

Sorey frowned. Dezel was still walking away, as if he just expected Sorey to just obey. So he did. Sorey turned around to quickly dash into his apartment and grab his keys—and a sweatshirt; it was kind of chilly outside of the constant warmth of his and Lailah’s apartment—before he ran back out to the hallway.

After locking his door and slipping his sweatshirt on over t-shirt, Sorey jogged to return to Dezel’s side at the end of the hall. He was grateful the man had to wait on an elevator; it allowed him time to catch up.

Sorey took the same opportunity as they waited to look up at Dezel again. But Dezel didn’t look back down.

The young man frowned. “So, uh…any idea where you’re taking me?”

Dezel huffed. It might have been a laugh; it was hard to tell with the man. But there was a small, amused lift to the side of his mouth. “ _I_ have an idea.”

Sorey waited for him to extend that train of thought, but it didn’t come. He frowned again.

The elevator dinged as it arrived. After a small pause, the doors slid open. Dezel moved inside first, Sorey at his heels. Together in the lift, they stood side-by-side. Dezel then reached forward, fingers briefly brushing against all of the buttons on the list before he finally found the one that he wanted.

Sorey watched as the number lit up. His frown loosened. He knew that floor.

Sorey’s green eyes darted up to Dezel again.

Still, Dezel did not look down.

This time, Sorey didn’t ask where they were going as the doors opened and Dezel walked out to the training and workout floor. He just followed, having a strange reassurance in his gut of just what it was Dezel wanted to do now.

The only matter he didn’t know was _why._

Sure enough, as they entered the training room, with mats still rolled into one corner and bo’s along the wall to the right, Dezel lead Sorey to a half of the room that had already been set up for a spar. A deep red mat was laid out on the floor, with a staff placed on either end.

Dezel walked to the far side. Sorey supposed he would take the one closest to the door. He watched Dezel pick up his bo, and he quickly followed suit, bending to pick up the staff that had already been put out for him. Sorey slipped off his socks as well, realizing that as he left his apartment, he hadn’t taken the time to grab shoes. Not that it mattered now, but he supposed it would have been a good idea at the time.

_Doesn’t really matter now, anyway._

Sorey gripped his staff with both hands and could feel his heartbeat fast through his palms, against the wood grain of his practice weapon.

Sorey straightened up and looked to Dezel. Dezel stood like unmovable stone.

For a brief moment, neither of them moved.

And then, the man nodded to him and readied his stance. Sorey echoed the motion. And perhaps it was the creak of the mat or the pressure of his weight on its surface, but when Sorey hesitantly stepped forward, Dezel did as well.

The first round was slow, careful. For a long time, neither of them made a single move; they simply circled each other. Sorey swallowed, flexing his hand on his bo as he waited, continually wondering if he should be the one to strike first, or if that was unfair. Or was Dezel _waiting_ for him to attack first, just so he could shove him on his scrawny ass and win the first point?

Dezel moved before he could question it again.

But it wasn’t truly an attack. It had been a feint. Sorey realized that fact too late as he hurriedly back-stepped to avoid a swing that wasn’t coming. Dezel shifted his weight and came at him from his other side. Deftly. Swiftly.

The man’s cut with his bo was sharp. As Sorey raised his bo to deflect his attack, he swore he could hear the wind slice open.

Sorey felt the staff in his hands shake and tremor with its immediate second and third clash against Dezel’s. The man was like a whirling tornado, with short, harsh, staccato bursts. It was not so much that Sorey had a hard time catching up; but more so that Sorey had a hard time staying in one _place._

Fighting with Dezel forced him to back up, to move. To go wherever it was Dezel was cornering him to, just to avoid getting scored against.

It was clear to Sorey that he wasn’t in control of this fight. He realized it the moment he had stepped off the mat and had his bo knocked down and away, to the side. All too soon, he felt the press of the end of Dezel’s bo against his neck.

The man muttered lowly, harrumphing to himself, “One, zero.”

Sorey breathed out hard when Dezel backed away. He watched as the older man turned, broad shoulders so _strong,_ giving away his years of training, as he walked towards his edge of the mat.

But Sorey’s green eyes were drawn to Dezel’s staff as he moved. There was something unique about the way he wielded it. Something that Sorey couldn’t put into words; he felt it was important.

He readied himself on his side of the mat as Dezel did the same on his end.

This time, when they came together, it was less careful than before. Dezel was powerful, Sorey was sure. Much stronger than him, and much taller and broader. He had so many advantages on his side—and yet, he didn’t always use that strength directly in a way that would take Sorey down immediately.

It was curious.

Almost disorienting, too. Because whatever Sorey was expecting Dezel to do next never came. Instead, the man would turn around and do the opposite. It was as if Dezel was laying traps for him; tripping him up on invisible cords that he would tie around his legs or around his arms. Entangling him. His attack pattern was almost web-like.

It was almost like Sorey couldn’t trust what he was seeing with Dezel. Or at least, he _shouldn’t_ rely on what he was seeing. Like—

—it hit him a moment later, when Dezel had the end of his bo aimed at Sorey’s neck once more.

“Two, zero.”

Sore blinked and he pressed his lips together, not instantly moving away from the staff at his neck. Dezel moved away first, turning to return to his edge of the mat.  Sorey stayed frozen, contemplating what he just realized.

Could Dezel really be—

It took him a moment to remember they were supposed to start the third round, but that one was over far more quickly than the first two. Sorey was distracted, continually watching Dezel _just to be sure_ , just to make absolutely certain he wasn’t hazarding a dangerous and offensive guess that was completely off the mark.

At the end of the round, however, Sorey found himself once again defenseless. Staff knocked away, arms splayed out for balance, with Dezel’s bo pressed to his neck. But now he was certain. Now he knew. There was no mistaking it.

“Three, ze—“

“—you’re blind!”

The room fell completely still at Sorey’s surprised burst.

Immediately, Sorey’s free hand flew to his mouth, his own eyes wide. His bo was still clenched tightly in his other. Dezel stood at an angle from him that faced the young man with his side and outstretched right arm. It was hard to read his expression like that, when his face wasn’t quite facing him.

After a long, tense pause, Dezel scoffed. He pulled his staff away. “And you only just realized that?”

Sorey watched him, unsure what to do or say. Slowly, his hand fell away from his face. He rested the end of his bo against the mat beneath his bare feet. “Was I supposed to know before?”

Dezel laughed a little—a strange but nice sound Sorey didn’t know if he had ever heard from him quite like _that_ before—and turned away. “I don’t know,” he rumbled, perhaps honestly. He walked towards his side of the mat and added, “It wasn’t why I brought you here.”

“Then why _did_ you want to spar with me?”

Dezel made a small sound between a hum and a grunt and readied himself on his end of the mat.

Sorey hurriedly rejoined his side as well. He held his staff in both hands now, something in his gut settling into place. He felt more comfortable than before, somehow, and as Dezel moved slowly forward, so did he.

In every movement Dezel made, Sorey mirrored the man, paying attention now more so than before even to the _little_ things Dezel did:  a feint here to determine Sorey’s actual location on the mat, a hard jab there to throw Sorey off balance—no wonder Dezel was a network of movements and attacks. No wonder Sorey never quite felt in control of the fight. Dezel had to have feelers out _everywhere_ to know exactly where Sorey was at all times, and _he_ had to be in control, if only to never lose his upper-hand.

He had seen Rose and Dezel fight together; he had seen them spar together before. But now Sorey began to wonder just what it was that Rose did that made her drift compatible with Dezel.

Dezel was a whirlwind.

_So…what. Did Rose just learn to let go?_

Sorey wondered what would happen if he stopped fighting the current that was Dezel. If he let the man move and just simply followed it. If he went with the “flow.” What would happen if he stopped trying to lead, and just let Dezel take the reins?

What would happen?

_Well, what have I to lose?_

So Sorey loosened his hold on his staff. He let himself melt away. He tried to imagine himself formless—something without base or construct. That could blow where the wind told it to go, and bend where it was needed to bend. Flexible and durable. Just letting everything brush over him.

When Dezel shoved him back, he didn’t resist. He went with it, as if it was part of his own plan. Or at least, Dezel’s plan. Because now, whatever come or whatever may be—Dezel’s plan was his plan.

Slowly, the fight began to change.

Dezel made a small sound again—more hum than grunt this time—as they spun around each other and Sorey smiled. He bent backward to avoid the swipe Dezel made at him; he turned around to come at the man’s other side. Dezel quickly blocked it, but that was all right. It was good.

They fought and moved together, step-by-step as if Dezel were commanding him where to place his feet. Where to be. All of his hard thrusts and jabs made _sense_ , now, Sorey couldn’t help but think. They weren’t to throw him or defeat him. They were to move him, to shove him in the direction Dezel wanted him to go without question. To place him where Dezel wanted, or maybe even needed, him to be.

And Sorey would obey with fluid movements. Without question.

Sorey closed his eyes.

They fought for what might have been hours. It might have been mere minutes. But it was the longest time Sorey had spent on the mat, and in the end, they didn’t even finish.

Sorey did not miss the fact that Dezel never brought the finishing blow to him, though he could have. At any moment, if Dezel wanted the fight to end, he could have brought it to a close. Sorey knew that and felt that through their connection.  But that final hit never came.

Instead, sharply, Dezel stepped back. Sorey was about to follow, eyes snapping open, bodily instinct from their extended sparring session pulling him forward, until the man held up a hand.

Sorey paused. His chest heaved with breath.

He waited in the silence for something—anything—a sign maybe that Dezel was pleased, that the fact they, too, were drift compatible was encouraging or good, but Dezel seemed to be waiting for something else, entirely.

Sorey wondered what.

And then—

“How _do_ you do it?”

Sorey straightened up. He flexed his hand that held onto his staff so tightly. “What?”

Dezel grunted softly and let his hand fell away from the space in front of him. He stepped back, and turned away. “Drifting,” he clarified. “You are compatible with even me. That is not something just anyone has been able to do.”

The man turned back around at the edge of his mat. Sorey wondered if they were going to fight again, but instead he continued speaking. “Rose was the first. Now, you are the second.”

Oh.

That was news to Sorey. Was he really the only other person besides Rose who had proven to be drift compatible with him?

“How?” Dezel asked again. This time, perhaps it was a demand.

Sorey shook his head before he remembered Dezel wouldn’t see it. He swallowed. “I don’t know. I just can.”

Dezel frowned.

In the hollow silence afterwards, Sorey gently rested the edge of his staff against the ground. “Sorry,” he sighed. _That probably wasn’t the answer you were looking for, huh?_

Dezel bowed his head. He raised a hand to his black hat and tilted it forward to shadow his face. He waited a long time before he spoke. “They call you the Shepherd Project. Did you know that?”

Sorey had heard the words before. But he shook his head. “Not really. I mean, it makes sense. Shepherd’s my last name so—”

The line of Dezel’s mouth twitched upward into a smirk. “Not my point.”

The man straightened up and turned away. When he reached the sidewall, Dezel set his bo on the rack, fingers ensuring that the wooden stick was snug in its holder. Quietly, he murmured, “Know this, Sorey:  you should be careful. What we do keeps the world safe, but it’s at a great cost.”

Sorey watched Dezel’s back, eyes following every motion to see if he could read his emotion. “Yeah,” he murmured.

“No.”

Dezel’s voice, louder now, was almost sharp in comparison to the hush that had overtaken them both. Sorey snapped his eyes up to the older man’s bangs as Dezel turned on him again, more quickly, now. Full of new energy and new purpose.

“You’re thinking of the possibility of death,” he declares as he marches forward. “You’re thinking that the ‘cost’ we have to pay is our lives one day far off in the future, but here’s the real truth:  to these people, you don’t pay up _just_ when you take your final breath.”

Sorey backed up. He stared at Dezel, words lost in his throat. “What—what do you mean?”

Dezel came to a stop at his side.

For a long moment he didn’t speak. Sorey wondered if he would; if he would get his question answered or if it, like everything else, would just be pushed off to be discussed at a later date.

But then, Dezel spoke. His voice dropped low, quiet.

There was something pained in his voice.

“Just…be wary of those who call you a ‘project,’ more than they do a ‘pilot.’”

Oh.

_Didn’t know they were crib-growing their secret weapon._

Sorey stared out into nothing, unsure what to say but feeling very hollow inside, as Dezel walked by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...mmmmmm it's been like a year. Woop.
> 
> Have a new chap anyway.


End file.
